Auroran Nights
by Jessica Marsh
Summary: Albion is the exotic land beyond the sea - until the mystery is revealed when Kirvi, a young Auroran, comes face to face with Christopher, the Prince of Albion. But for them, the dunes of Aurora contain much more than merely Darkness and allies...
1. A meeting of royalty

1–

A meeting of royalty

"Kirvi, you get away from that door this instant."

The girl pulled back from the heavy door and glanced back at her mother, glowering at her from her safe place behind a stone partition. "But, Mama, I want to see the stranger," she replied quietly, and looked back out the door. The streets were dark, as Kalin ordered her people to keep all fires to a minimum and streetlights were banned, but in the sparkle of the clear night stars, she could see the three shadows moving down the stairs from the temple.

"What stranger, Kirvi?" her little brother asked. He padded up behind her and grabbed her pant leg, staring past her.

"_No_. Get away from that door, both of you." Their mother pulled back her son and hushed silent the three other children. "Kirvi, listen to me. Respect me. I am your mother. Do not make me—"

"Hush." Kirvi waved a hand to silence her mother, and received a shock of indignation in return. "Mama, please. They're coming closer." She cracked the door open a little further, just enough to poke her head out. One of the babies began to whimper behind her; he was old enough to simply understand why they had to remain indoors, especially during the night. So many had already been lost to the Darkness.

The three figures, shadowed and dark in the night, stopped at the foot of the stairs, just near their hut. One she recognized immediately—it was their leader, Kalin. That was obvious by the sleek bald head and thick white stripe down the front of her face. But with her were two men Kirvi had never seen before.

"Mama, their skin is white like Kalin's," Kirvi whispered, awed. Even then, they were paler than Kalin, one with a hair colour she had never seen. It was golden like the sand, scruffy and wavy about his head. That man wore a dark red vest with long, billowy white sleeves; totally unfitting the desert. She had caught a glimpse of him earlier, when he first arrived, soaked and exhausted, at their harbour. He was beautiful, unlike any of the men she was accustomed to seeing, with a rough, scruffy look about him.

The other man must have only just arrived at the city. He looked much younger than the man with sand for hair, though certainly older than Kirvi herself. Short, messy brown hair looked as though it had dried while being slept on; it was so messy, and as he spoke with the other man and Kalin, he kept pushing the loose locks away from his forehead. He was coated in sand and dirt, but behind it all, it was clear he was a man of wealth; his shirt and trousers, while filthy, looked to be of extremely good quality.

And trailing along at his booted heels was a beautiful black and white animal.

"Mama, is that a goat?" Kirvi asked, bewildered. It didn't look like any goat _she _had ever seen. It was much too hairy, and much too… ungoatlike.

"Kirvi, come back here!"

Ignoring her mother's plea, Kirvi slunk past the door and, for the first time in days, left the hut she called home. A shiver passed over her; not only was the night cold, but the city was void of any and all life, save for the three people and the goat. Several years prior, the streets would be filled with men and women and children doing their last minute shopping, or avoiding bedtime as long as they could. But now everyone was urged to remain inside.

Corpses were piled at the centre of the town, prepared for a burial once it was safe to congregate together, even for a short time.

Holding back her nausea, Kirvi walked away from her hut, toward Kalin and the men. As she approached, the sand squelching between her bare toes, the yellow haired man was the first to notice her.

"Oh," he said, smiling cheerfully as he spotted her. Kirvi slowed upon hearing his voice. He had the most bizarre accent she had ever heard. "The first brave young lady I've seen in all Aurora."

"Kirvi," Kalin said warningly as Kirvi stopped beside her, "you should return home. Your mother will be worried about you."

"She can see me." Her eyes lingered for a moment on the sandy haired man, then to the brunette beside him. With only a faint amount of dark stubble on his cheeks, he looked barely a few years older than her, less than she anticipated. He was watching her with a faint smirk on his chapped lips. "What is going on, Kalin?"

"These two men are from Albion, child." Kalin lightly touched Kirvi's back, and she obligingly bowed. "The land across the sea. This is a soldier from their army. Ben Finn."

The man in red grinned and gave a little bow before taking Kirvi's hand, to her surprise, and placing his lips on the back of it. "A pleasure, m'lady. Kirvi, she said your name was? Beautiful, truly."

Kirvi gawked and let her hand fall limply to her side. He had absolutely butchered her name. 'Curvy' was _not _the proper name for any sane being.

"Thank you."

Ben Finn nudged his younger companion. "And this, m'lady, is His Royal Highness, the Prince of Albion."

Redness flushed the boy's prickly cheeks, and he gave a shy smile as he held out his hand. "Just Christopher will do, thanks," he said softly, and gave her hand a simple, warm shake.

As soon as her hand left his, she looked at the black and white thing seated prettily beside him. "Is that a goat?"

Ben snorted and chuckled, and the boy—the Prince of Albion?—grinned down at the shaggy thing at his feet. "I'm afraid not," he said, rubbing his fingers together. The thing yelped and jumped to its feet, its tail waggling joyfully. "It's my dog. His name is, uh, Logie." He gave an embarrassed shrug as he crouched beside it and began scratching its head. "I named him when I was little."

"Back before Logan became a tyrant, apparently," Ben remarked dryly.

Christopher glanced up at his companion with a tweak in his eyebrow. "Back before Logan became king at all," he corrected. Dusting off the knees of his already filthy trousers, he stood and the dog curled up at his feet once more. "Back when my parents were still alive, and Logan was a good brother."

Kirvi eyed the thing warily. "It looks like a goat," she decided, and it cocked its head at her.

"I suppose it does." Ben turned back to Kalin. "So, Kalin, maybe since it's the middle of the night, we'll let our little prince do his investigating or whatever it is he needs to do in the morning?" His keen eyes moved to his friend. "He's been through a lot, going through that cave."

The boy grunted and shook his head. "_A lot _is the least of it," he mumbled, holding his head.

"Certainly. While the man is being tended to by our healers, you may remain in the city for as long as you require, though I ask you do not wander away while you are here," Kalin said, looking between the two. "Captain, you wished to return to Sir Walter. You may do so now. Prince, what would you like to do?"

"Sleep would be nice." The boy rubbed his face, suddenly looking years older. Kirvi squinted and gave him a long stare. Ben Finn had said he had gone through a cave. One of their friends was being tended to by a healer. There was only one cave nearby that Kirvi thought would require the assistance of the temple healers.

"You may stay with us," she offered quite suddenly.

The prince blinked, surprised, and Kalin's jaw dropped, but Ben grinned and slapped Christopher's back hard enough to make the smaller man nearly crumple. "Perfect! You've got a housemate. Come back up to the temple when you're ready in the morning, all right? We can check up on Walter together."

A cloud passed over the tired face of the young man. "Yeah. Thanks, Ben. It really…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping helplessly to the sand.

Ben clapped Christopher's shoulder once more and gave it a tight squeeze. "I know. Goodnight, Chris. And to you as well, m'lady," he added, with a polite bow to Kirvi. "Kalin, shall we?" With that, he and the Auroran leader began the hike back up the steps to the temple at the head of the city.

Kirvi waited patiently, twisting her fingers together in front of her, until Kalin and Ben Finn vanished out of sight and earshot. As soon as they were gone, she looked back at the exhausted royalty before her and asked quietly, "Did you enter the cave of the Darkness?"

Christopher's dark and weary eyes turned on her. "Yes. Kalin said that is what has made your city so…" He grimaced and his words broke off. Kirvi blinked emotionlessly. There was no reason for him to finish his sentence. The evidence was all around them.

Kirvi shifted her toes in the sand and gestured to the hut behind them. "We should not stay out longer. The Darkness may return." She smiled slightly. "Bring your goat." Turning on her heel, she led the way back to her house, listening to his clumsy footsteps on the sand. The dog trotted up in front of her and stopped, sitting expectantly in front of the door.

"Wait here." Kirvi walked up to the door and knocked gently. "Mama, it's Kirvi. Open the door, please."

A long moment passed. Finally, the greenish door creaked open, and the dog slunk through in an instant.

"Ah! Demons!"

"No! Mama!" Kirvi rushed inside with Christopher right on her heels. She stopped abruptly when she heard a click behind her, and the entire one-room house fell into a thick silence.

The dog whimpered and backed away from her cowering and trembling mother. Behind Kirvi, Christopher murmured, "That's a good boy. Don't do that again." She turned and watched, wide-eyed, as he calmly stuffed a shiny, ornate pistol in a leather holster on his hip. An uncomfortable smile forced its way onto his mouth, and he gave a short bow. "Good evening. I'm Christopher."

Kirvi licked her lips and cleared her throat. "He is the Prince of Albion, Mama," she added quickly. "He has come with the strange man who came this morning."

Her mother's brown eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she nodded curtly and stood, her two sons' hands clenched in her own. She gave a simple bow and greeted tersely, "A pleasure to have you in our home and our city, Your Highness."

Kirvi gestured for him to sit, and kneeled beside him as he sat on a stool next to his dog. Once her mother and siblings were settled against the stone partition, Kirvi cleared her throat again and explained, "He and his friend are waiting for their companion to heal in the temple."

"Sir Walter Back, Captain Ben Finn, and I were attacked and shipwrecked on our way to Aurora," Christopher spoke up, scratching his dog behind the ears. "An ally of ours, Major Swift, proposed we might find help here in Aurora."

"Help for what?" Kirvi's young brother Sussen blurted. He was leaning forward on his knees, tiny mouth hanging open and big brown eyes wide in interest.

"Have you heard of King Logan?"

The three young children shook their heads, but Kirvi nodded and her mother murmured a positive. She had only been twelve at the time, but she could still strongly remember the days in which a man named Logan had arrived in Aurora, hallucinating and on the verge of death's embrace. He hailed from the land of Albion, and he had promised the Aurorans peace.

"He's my brother," Christopher said, with a tinge of reluctance in his voice. "He has been ruling Albion with an iron fist ever since he became king. Sir Walter and I are collecting allies for, well, something of a revolution. That's why we're here."

Kirvi's mother stood and snorted. Padding across the hut to the tiny stone hearth, she scoffed, "You will certainly find support in Aurora. Apart from Albion as we are, we still bear no love for your king; not after the promises he made and ignored since he came to our city." Orange light flared briefly as the small fire was viciously stoked. "Sussen, Naja, Tiem, go to bed."

The three little bodies scurried past Kirvi and Christopher, back to the bed mats near the hearth. Kirvi and the prince waited in silence as her mother put down the children for the night. The shaggy dog whined quietly and rested his chin on his master's lap, closing his eyes in ecstasy as Christopher rubbed his snout.

When Kirvi's mother returned, she asked, "What is your companion ailing from? You mentioned he was being cared for by the healers."

"Sir Walter and I came to the desert through a cave several hours away. He was weakened and blinded by—"

The older woman uttered a choked noise of horror at his interrupted words. Holding a shaky hand to her terror-stricken face, she stammered, "Th-The Darkness! You have been touched by the Darkness! You cannot—"

"Mama!" Kirvi jumped to her feet and stood protectively before her guest. "Please, Mama. He needs a place to stay until his companion is well again. Have mercy, please. Let him stay in the loft."

The look she was given was sharper than her papa's dagger. "Very well. But you, Kirvi, are responsible for him. I will not have anything to do with someone who has been tainted by the Crawler. And if he brings the Darkness back to our city, you shall be the sacrifice made, and you may deal with the fury of your father when your light as finally been stolen."

Kirvi glowered at her mother, rage fuelling her body. "That is a small price to pay for the security of a stranger in need." Turning back to the bewildered prince, she bowed lightly. "Your Highness, it is not much, but we have room you may use in the loft outside. You will be sharing your space with chickens, but…"

Christopher hopped nimbly to his feet. "Oh! No, no, that is perfect, definitely. I like chickens. Can you…?"

Kirvi nodded, tucking back her long black waves before crouching to open a chest shoved against the stone partition. With an armload of blankets and rolled pillows, she led the way to the small, discreet back door of the hut. She murmured a quiet warning before ducking beneath the archway and emerging in the fenced chicken coop behind the house. A cool night breeze ruffled the multicolour feathers of the birds as they cackled and strutted around their sandy pen. Several white creatures squawked and tumbled out of the way from the ramp leading to the raised room above the coop as Kirvi neared. The storehouse was a simple structure with one door and no windows, intended for the storage of dry goods and feed for the chickens. Kirvi smiled to herself as she slipped through the narrow doorway; this simple building had been a fortress for her and her friends when they were children, in the happier years before the Darkness ate Aurora.

Crates and small bales of hay lined the crude stone walls of the storehouse; straw and dirt littered the simple floor. Kirvi handed Christopher the bundle of sleeping equipment before climbing up the ladder to the pitiful "second storey" of the building; it was the loft her papa had built for her and Opal when they were little girls, so they could camp outside. There was room enough for two full grown people to sit comfortably, but standing was not an option.

The ladder creaked as Christopher awkwardly climbed up the first several rungs, and Kirvi snapped out of her reverie long enough to take the thickest blanket from his arms. Laying it out as a makeshift mattress on the wooden floor of the loft, she wiped cobwebs from the corners and made a simple bed out of the blankets and pillows she had brought.

When she was finished, she scooted back on her knees and held out her hands. "It is nothing fit for a prince, but—"

"It's perfect," he assured her in a soft voice. A small, shy smile crossed his face, and Kirvi returned it. She had a sense that despite his cool exterior toward her mother, and calmness in explaining his story, he was really a quiet and timid lad. "Really, it is. Kirvi—" At that, her smile widened a little; unlike his captain friend, he said her name appropriately: Keer-_vee_. "—I really must thank you for your hospitality. It bewildered me that you simply offered your house to a stranger, but…" One broad shoulder lifted, and the corner of his mouth turned up. "It's much appreciated."

Her reasons for offering were her own. She smiled warmly and gave a slight nod, silently cursing that one cowlick in her hair that always made it fall from its bun. Eyes on the black and white animal trying to paw its way up the ladder, she said, "You are welcome, Your Highness. I admit I was curious about your goat, though. It is one of the reasons I wanted to speak to you."

Christopher chuckled and shook his head, smiling as he helped his dog up the ladder and onto the loft. The dog instantly curled up on his lap, crushing him with a happy sigh. He laughed and ran his hand down the dog's hairy back. "He's very good at getting me noticed, that's for sure. Aren't you, Logie?"

The dog gave a happy bark, wagged its tail, and settled more comfortably on Christopher's legs.

The prince smiled and padded his pet's ribs. "Good boy, Logie. You know," he said softly, as though lost in memory, "my brother had a cat once; got it around the time I got Logie here. He named it Chris, for me." His big brown eyes turned up to her face, and she felt her cheeks warm with his simple delight in his dog and his brother's cat. "Until it turned out the cat was pregnant; that's when we found out it was a girl, and he renamed it Chrissie. It kind of… detracted from the brotherly sentiment a bit."

Kirvi giggled, covering her mouth. Christopher gave her a lopsided smile before adjusting the pillows against the wall and settling back with a sigh.

"He wasn't always corrupt. Being king made him… different. Power does that, I guess. Ah, well. That's of little importance." He crossed his hands on his abdomen and eyed her over the back of his snoring dog. "Does it get as cold in the night here as I've read in books?"

Kirvi shook her head and tucked her hair back. Long, down to her elbows in large, loose waves, it constantly fell from its simple bun at the base of her skull. "Oh, no. Not during the summers. You will not need a fire; the blankets will be enough." Another cool wind whistled through the stones of the storehouse, and Kirvi glanced back at the door to the storehouse; the night was deepening quickly.

"If you require anything else, do not hesitate to come inside and wake me up," she urged him as she shuffled backward to the ladder. Her bare toes found the worn wooden rungs with memorized ease, and she slipped down until only her shoulders and above poked into the loft.

Christopher nodded while simultaneously kicking off his boots and unbuckling his holster and scabbard. "Thank you again, Kirvi. This beats sleeping outside or on the stone beds in the temple."

She felt her face beam in a smile. "It is my pleasure, Your Highness."

"Please." He paused, halfway beneath the covers with Logie deposited beside him. "Call me Christopher."

Kirvi made a soft noise before bowing as well as someone can while clinging to a ladder. "Goodnight, Christopher," she murmured, and landed silently on the rough storehouse floor. She turned, dusting off the soft cotton knees of her baggy trousers, and just before she slipped beneath the low door to the coop outside, she heard a gentle, "Goodnight, Kirvi," before the only sounds in the tiny room were the grunting, heavy snores of Logie the goatdog.


	2. The local customs

Kirvi swung her feet over the ledge and peered down at the golden sands far below. The rock beneath her was rough and scratchy, but her bare hands were used to the feeling, and her cotton pants did enough to keep her comfortable. It was barely midday, and already it was the hottest it had been all summer. But up in the hills around the City of Aurora, where the winds were at their peak without climbing the far off mountains, she and Opal were given something of a reprieve.

"You met the strangers, then," Opal remarked excitedly. She plunked her legs over the edge beside Kirvi and leaned backwards with a contented sigh. "Are there three of them, like my father said?"

"Mm-hm. I have only met two, though. Opal, they are so strange."

"Strangers, Kirvi."

"They have white skin, like Kalin."

"Do you think she hails from Albion?"

Kirvi shrugged and fiddled with the low neck of her plain cotton tunic. "Not likely. And one man, the older one, he has hair the colour of sand!"

"That exists? I have only seen hair black and brown."

"As have I. But I swear it, Opal. And their accents sound like they are chewing on cotton while they speak. It is charming and cute, but impossible to understand at the same time. The prince, the man staying at my home, his is not so bad as his sand friend."

"So that is true? The prince of Albion is sleeping at your home? In _our _loft?"

Kirvi giggled and glanced sidelong at her oldest friend. Opal's smooth forehead had crumpled into a scowl; truly disgruntled. "He is not taking it over, Opal. Do not fret. It is only a place for him to stay while his friend—Sir Walter Beck—recovers from being attacked by the Darkness."

The frown deepened; it made the sweat beading her dark forehead stand boldly in the sunlight. "Is that why you so readily offered your home to him, then? Because he encountered the Crawler?"

"I want to know, Opal."

"Let it be, Kirvi. It is dangerous, messing with the work of the Darkness. We will never know where it came from, or how it works, or why it is bent on destroying us all."

Kirvi shook her head and looked back over the City of Aurora. Many shops were open during the day, including her mother tending to the chickens, but the young, the ill, and the elderly were encouraged to remain indoors even at noon, lest the Darkness return for another round of Auroran snacks. The colourful robes of the shopkeepers littered the city, tiny specks from their high seats.

Opal sighed heavily and Kirvi felt her adjust on the slab of rock that was their perch. "I understand, Kirvi. You know I do. I miss your father as much as you do."

Kirvi pressed her lips together and kept her gaze on the city. At the temple in the distance, she could see several small figures emerge from the triangular entrance; judging by the bright red coat and the black and white fluff, it was Christopher and Logie, Ben Finn and Kalin.

"Oh, fine." Opal huffed. "What is his name, at least?"

"The prince? Christopher. He has a goat for a pet."

"A goat?"

"Without hooves." Kirvi leaned forward and shielded her eyes from the blaring desert sun. There was no extra man with them; Christopher and the captain's friend Walter had not yet awoken from his ailments caused by the Crawler and its Darkness. "He calls it a dog. I have never seen one before."

Her friend gave a high twitter of a giggle. "Oh, that is bizarre."

"Its name is Logie," she continued, distracted. The figure of Kalin remained behind at the temple doors, but those of Christopher, Ben, and the dog were moving down the stairs, back toward the rest of the city. "He named it after his brother."

"How beautiful. What are you staring at, Kirvi?"

She hesitated to answer. At the base of the stairs, the men stopped, and one white-sleeved arm was pointing up toward them. "I think they are looking for me," she muttered, and scooted backward on the rock. "Do you want to meet the men from Albion, Opal?"

Her friend laughed and climbed to her feet, taking a moment to adjust the skirt around her slender waist. "Must you even ask? Come on." She held out a hand and Kirvi took it without thought. Hand in hand, the two girls wound down the narrow, treacherous mountain path that carved through the hillside. Ten minutes of hiking brought them directly behind one of their neighbour's houses; panting slightly from the exercise, they trotted onto the streets of the city and made a beeline for the Albion men standing like lost lizards at the foot of the stairs.

Kirvi paused to shake sand out of the tight ankle of her trousers before leading Opal to the steps. Logie barked joyfully and sprinted toward her as soon as he saw her, but at a shout from Christopher, he stopped midway and sat, tongue dangling from his slobbery mouth.

"I told you I found them," Ben remarked cheerfully as the men approached. "Been feeling a little like birds lately, have you?" Smiling so the pleasant dimples in his pale peach cheeks stood out, he glanced at Opal and gave a polite leg. "A pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm Captain Benjamin Finn of the Albion army. And you are?"

"Opal, sir." She held her skirt and gave a little curtsey; Kirvi noticed her mouth twist wryly, and she held back a laugh. Certainly Captain Finn's behaviour was… odd.

Kirvi remembered to bow before asking, "How is your friend today?"

Judging by the shadow of dejection hanging over Christopher's face—darkening his eyes, lining his face to appear much older than he likely was—he wouldn't be answering many questions. Rather, Ben took the mantle of leader and replied, "Oh, he's a tough old chap, to be sure. He'll pull through. It's only a matter of time now. Kalin seems certain her healers can do… whatever it is that they do… and he'll be up and about, training Heroes in no time!" He clapped his hands together and grinned charmingly at the girls. Kirvi smiled, unable to stop herself, and Ben gave her a solemn wink. "What is there to do in this beautiful place, eh? We've got some moping royalty with us, and we've got to get him up and moving."

Christopher winced as Ben nudged him with his elbow. Shuffling several paces back, he scowled at his cheery friend and muttered, "Not now, Ben. I am really not in the mood for your games."

A look of hurt shock spread across Ben's face, but by the twitching of his mouth, it was obviously fake. Opal held back a snicker beside her, and Kirvi suppressed a smile. Christopher was the only one unaffected by Ben's joy.

"Oh, come now, Your Majesty. Surely you jest. Me? _Games? _You must have me mistaken for someone else. Kirvi here, perhaps." He showed off his perfect white teeth in a grin as he cast his gaze at her. "She seems like the gamey type. Not gamey like the hunt, of course, but… well, I'm sure you understand. Oh, speaking of, is there any hunting to do around here?"

Kirvi shook her head and shrugged one shoulder. "Not unless you intend to bring home lizards or sand furies. And besides, going into the desert is strictly discouraged. It is too dangerous with the threat of the Darkness constantly looming."

A heavy sigh escaped Ben's lungs, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, Archon, this place is gloomy. Haven't you got anything?"

"Not for a man of your age and status, sir," Opal replied dryly. She arched one black brow at the captain and crossed her arms beneath her bosom.

"Excuse me?"

"Unless you still enjoy the games of childhood, Captain," Kivi quickly recovered, "we cannot help you. You see, Opal and I are barely ten and six."

"Ah, well, much closer to Princey here than me. Twenty? Aye." Ben clapped Christopher's shoulder and pretended not to notice the darkening scowl blanketing the youth's unshaven and dirty features. "Don't I just feel ancient now. Is there a pub, at least?"

Kirvi shared a look with Opal, and both girls shook their heads. "Is it not a little early to drink, Captain?" Kirvi inquired, raising her brows at him.

Ben laughed; an infectious and delighted sound, like she had told the funniest joke he had ever heard. "It's never too early to drink, milady. What I meant was cards. Gambling. That's encouraged in the pubs back home. Is there nothing like that here?"

"Nothing so organized. Our papas used to play cards some nights," Kirvi recalled with a rueful smile, "before the Darkness came." She and Opal, too energetic to sleep, would flee the loft and explore the city at night. Cool and peaceful, the opposite of the heat and rumbling bustle of the daytime, it was their favourite childhood act of rebellion, especially once they hiked to the harbour and found the gamblers. Many men of the city, including both their fathers and Opal's older brother, were huddled in a companionable circle on the dock, laughing and chatting with the warm light of a bonfire on the beach exaggerating the shadows in the folds of their robes. At first, the girls kept hidden in the cliffs, but after several nights, Kirvi's father spotted them hunched in the rocks. Rather than punish the girls for staying out late and spying, they were invited to the circle and shown how to play the card game the men were so enamoured with. And until Kirvi's mother caught them and forbade them from gambling, whenever they could stay up late enough they played cards with the men of Aurora.

"But that has not happened since the initial destruction five years ago," Opal murmured. Her voice was heavy with nostalgia and longing; her papa hadn't been the same since the Darkness first came to Aurora and swallowed the light of his son and his best friend.

"Well, which game was it? Blackjack? Fortune's tower? Memory? Coin golf? Wait, there are no cards in that," Ben muttered, fumbling in a pouch around his waist. "Aha!" His hand emerged from the pocket a moment later, grasping a well-worn deck of racy playing cards. Kirvi's eyes bugged at the sight, and feeling her face heat up, she averted her gaze to look at Logie instead.

Christopher groaned, "Oh, Ben, put those cards back. No woman wants to play anything with those filthy things."

Ben flipped through the deck until he came across whichever card he was looking for. "Oh, come off it, Chris. You and Walter loved these on the ship from Albion. Remember the ace of spades? Look at her!" He laughed as Christopher shoved the card away from his face. "Tell you what, Chris: If you ever beat me at keystone, you can have the ace of spades. For keeps."

"There aren't even any cards in keystone! And there is no skill involved at all!" Christopher protested, shooting his friend a heated scowl.

"Hm." Opal braved walking up to Ben's side and flashing the cards a curious glance. "What is keystone? Is it gambling?"

Christopher gave a dry chuckle and shook his head while Ben enthusiastically showed Opal the faces—or bodies, rather—of the cards. "Ben Finn is the one to talk to when it comes to gambling. Bit of a hobby of his."

"Something like that. So what do you say, Opal? Care to learn how to play?" Ben gave her an enticing wink, and as Opal giggled and agreed, Kirvi had to hold back a grin. Never before had she met someone so carefree and full of joy than Ben Finn. He lifted the atmosphere of Aurora by merely inhabiting the city—and that was something the Aurorans could certainly use.

Kirvi settled on the warm, hard ground to watch as Ben removed all the necessary instruments for playing keystone. Trapezoidal stones were placed on the ground in an arch, and using a dagger he carved numbers into the dry earth.

Dust and sand stirred, and Christopher plopped down beside her. "Don't expect your friend to be available for the next several hours. Ben is a relentless gambler. All we did on the way from Albion is play cards," he remarked. Kirvi stole a discreet glance at him; he was watching with mild interest as Ben explained the rules of the game. He had used the bathwater she had provided him with earlier well—the grime was gone from his skin, and his hair was no longer encrusted with sand and dirt, though the messiness remained. The only minor detractions from his otherwise impeccable appearance were the lines of exhaustion around his eyes, the stiff stubble along his jaw, and the fact that it looked as though his clothes hadn't been washed in several weeks of sand- and rainstorms.

Kirvi felt her mouth pull up, and she cast her gaze back at the blonde soldier crouched in front of her. "Is he a good gambler, or just constant?"

"The best of the best. Walter and I lost just under ten grand between us just while we were sailing with the bastard. Oh," he suddenly squeaked. Kirvi watched in awe as his alabaster cheeks blossomed a starling crimson. "Beg your pardon, Kirvi. I didn't mean to curse in front of you. I forgot myself."

"Do not apologize."

His thick brows scrunched together. "But I am the prince. I'm supposed to be civil and polite. And you are a lady—"

"Who is only four years younger than you," she interrupted, untying her hair from its bun and letting the long black locks tumble down her back. His eyes followed the path of her hair, wide and entranced. "If Ben speaks the truth about your age, at least. And besides, Christopher, must you act as a prince, here and now? You are in Aurora; far from the eyes of your people, save," she amended, nodding at Ben, "your gambling captain and your ailing mentor. I think neither will judge you now or ever."

He looked thoughtful as he rolled up the sleeves of his dirty white shirt. "I suppose so. But what about you? I would hate to have my host judge me for my foul tongue."

She snorted and looked on as Ben began the game by rolling three square objects. "I am Auroran, Christopher. We do things differently here. Is he going to take her money?"

"No. Gambling with women is different than gambling with men." He rested his arms on his knees and tilted his head to the side to look at her. Ben had been right; distracting Christopher was the best thing for him while Walter was still ill. "Taking money from a lady is just… disgusting. Ben has enough poise and tact to be a gentleman and not make monetary bets with her."

Content, Kirvi leaned back on her elbows and shook out her hair to see the sky. Perfect, clear blue, as it almost always was; it only seemed to change during a sandstorm or when the Darkness came. Tiny, fluffy clouds drifted lazily across the azure plane above them, and the sun was high, huge and blazing yellow as it scorched the desert a deeper gold. Warm breezes coming in from the sea, tinged with salt and sand, brushed over her skin. Her clothes, the simple, homespun cotton tunic and baggy trousers—soft beige, and edged in beads of red, orange, and yellow—blocked out the worst of the heat, deflecting it and keeping her comfortable.

Her fingers ran over the rows of beads on the low scoop of her collar. Varying shades of crimson and scarlet, copper and ochre, gold and saffron, all the colours her father had treasured above the rest—the hues of fire. It had been the tunic he wore at his wedding to her mother; it became hers after the Crawler sent its Children to the City of Aurora for the first time when she was eleven.

"That's a beautiful shirt," Christopher's voice spoke up, dragging her out of her nostalgia. She glanced up, hands lingering on the bumpy beadwork, to see his glittering brown eyes on her, thoughtful and squinted in the light of the sun.

"Thank you." She lowered her hand and rested her elbow back in the sand. Sleeveless, like most of her shirts save the winter ones; that was the only time it got cool enough in Aurora to cover the arms with a thin piece of cotton. "It was my father's."

A smile played at his lips, but a shadow of sadness clouded his eyes. Shifting, he removed the beautiful pistol from its holster at his side. He held it up, and Kirvi leaned closer to get a better look at it. It was shiny and almost silvery, with intricate golden patterns stamped on the barrel and worn wooden stock. Several scratches slashed through the tracings here and there, but it was otherwise in excellent condition. "This was my father's," he said, rotating it so the sunlight glinted off the gold and silver. "Despite my mother disapproving, he gave it to me when I turned ten. Once she got over it, they both helped me learn how to shoot it." A twinge crossed his face, and he slowly lowered the gun to his lap.

Kirvi looked up at him. She understood that look too well. "When did he pass?"

He cleared his throat and licked his dry lips. "Eight years ago. Only four months after my mother. I'd always heard that people who have spent their lives together and are deeply in love pass close together, but I never believed it until it happened to them." He exhaled deeply and shrugged. "It was their time, I suppose. He was nearing seventy, and she had been fighting pneumonia for months before she died. Less than a week later, Logan was king." Frowning at the gun, he lifted it and pondered it before slinging it back in its holster. "Logan got not only the crown, but Dad's best armour, his best friend as his minister of industry, and a mask that's apparently been in our family for generations."

She felt a pang of sympathy stab her heart. Reaching out, she gently rested a hand on his arm. "Do not think your father preferred Logan over you. From all I have heard, he was a very fair and gracious man."

His eyes fell on her hand, touching the warm leather gauntlet covering his arm. "That's what I get for being the son of a king, apparently," he muttered. His lips turned up at the corners as he flexed his fingers, making the leather glove around his forearm creak. "Well, I guess I got one inheritance Logan can never take."

Kirvi frowned. "What?"

Christopher bit his lip and abruptly shook his head. "Nothing," he said, and pulled his arm away from hers so her fingers slipped to the sand. "How do you keep cool here?" he asked, quickly changing his expression from contemplative to thespian curiosity. "I've never been so hot in my life and you aren't even breaking a sweat."

"Proper clothing." She gave him a narrow stare, and he smiled uncomfortably in return. "Whatever fine fabric you wear is inappropriate for Aurora."

Christopher looked over at Ben and Opal. They were fully immersed in their game. "I don't think they'll notice if we leave for a bit. Is there a clothier here?"

—

"It is just down this road."

Christopher nodded and waited until Kirvi turned forward once more before continuing his admiration. Her bare feet were light on the superheated ground, as if she never even felt the heat. She seemed to have a slight dance to her step as she walked, making the baggy trousers she wore bounce around her legs and her long, glossy black hair sway and shine in the sunlight. She was like the ballerinas from Samarkand he had seen in performances at the castle, back when his parents were alive and his mother wanted some sophisticated entertainment. Elegant and graceful, even when they weren't dancing; despite her youth, Kirvi seemed the same.

Distracted as he was, he didn't notice she had veered toward the open door of a building. Catching himself just before he walked straight into a pole, he followed and paused at the entrance. Logie whined beside him, and he crouched to pat the dog's soft head. "Stay here, boy," he murmured, and straightened to see Kirvi giving him a funny look. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Here." She hopped into the store and Christopher followed, brushing his sweat-soaked hair off his forehead so it slicked back over his head. Catching sight of himself in a pane of glass, he held back a chuckle in the form of a snort, making Kirvi frown at him again. Composing his face, he tried to look as neutral as possible as he stepped into the shop.

"I look like Logan," he muttered to himself, playing with two particularly unruly locks so it splayed out to the sides like Logan's sometimes did. With a little smile, he realized he and Logan really did resemble each other, despite Logan taking after their father and Christopher their mother. If only his scruffy beard of stubble was gone with a pointy soul patch in its place; then he'd really look like a brown-haired, younger Logan.

He trailed after Kirvi and let her pick out trousers that she thought might fit him. He stood like a mannequin as she held them at his waist, and with the help of the shopkeeper, picked a pair. White, with colourful rainbow embroidery at the waistband and ankles, and much less baggy than Kirvi's. Finally, she chose a plain white, sleeveless tunic with a thick crimson cloth belt, and he was shown to a wooden screen to change.

He came out a minute later, clutching his Albion clothes beneath his arm, feeling much more comfortable but much more exposed at the same time. His sword seemed awkwardly heavy against his back without his thicker shirt to cushion it, but at least the crimson belt held his holster in place, so it didn't sway and bump his leg when he walked.

Uncomfortable and awkward with the attention, he simply stood and waited as Kirvi gave him sandals instead of his boots, and the shopkeeper rang up the total, excited to have a new customer.

When the shopkeeper announced the price, Kirvi's expression fell flat and her eyes bugged. "I do not have eight thousand gold to cover that," she told him, giving him a dirty glare. "Why have you raised your prices?"

"We all need the money, Kirvi," he said apologetically. "My son is ill; I cannot afford the medicines from the hermit."

Before Kirvi could protest any more, Christopher stepped forward and dug in his bundle of clothes. Pulling out his purse, he dumped the money on the counter and pushed it toward the shopkeeper. "Here," he said, tucking the rest away. "That should cover it, right?"

The man took a moment to count, then nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Your Highness." With that, he gave a deep bow, and Kirvi stomped out of the shop with Christopher following timidly.

Logie barked excitedly and jumped to his feet as they left the store. "Hey, boy, did you miss me?" Christopher said, smiling, as he patted his bouncing dog. In answer, Logie barked again and sprinted down the market square to chase one of the wandering chickens.

As soon as his dog was vanished from sight, Christopher said, "Excuse me a moment. I should get him." With that, he chased after Logie, leaving Kirvi in front of the clothier. He turned a corner he knew Logie hadn't gone, and once sure he wasn't being watched by anyone but the sun, he held his hands together in front of him and concentrated.

A second later, he stood in his father's Sanctuary.

"Christopher, you're back!"

He blinked, a little worn out from the split-second travel, and spotted one of his dear friends and oldest confidantes pushing back a chair and folding shut a book. Smiling warmly, Jasper strode across the circular room and held out his arms, offering to take his things.

Christopher gratefully handed over the filthy garments, and Jasper took them with only a slight grimace. "Hi, Jasper. How are things here?"

"Oh, same as always, sire. How is Aurora? I see you have gotten in tune with the local customs," he remarked, smiling wryly as he gave Christopher's new getup a look.

Christopher rubbed his bare arm, suddenly cold without the Auroran sun beating down on him. "If that's how you want to put it."

Jasper nodded and led the way to the closet, with Christopher followed tiredly. Using self-made cullis gates wasn't the easiest thing, and he wasn't very good at it, usually relying on the one in the Sanctuary to do all the work.

As Jasper began folding up the shirt, he coughed lightly and inquired, "How is Walter holding up, sire?"

Christopher sighed and fell into a chair next to his changing screen. "He is still unconscious. The Auroran healers are doing the best they can, but…" He trailed off, trying to think up a nice way of putting it. Jasper and Walter were just as close as Christopher was to them, perhaps even closer as their roles of mentor and personal servant had them interacting often during Christopher's childhood. "Well, Ben has high hopes," he concluded lamely, feeling his forehead scrunch.

"Captain Finn _always _has high hopes, sire, about everything. He is an eternal optimist." The old man's lined face deepened as he smiled. "He is still bent on the idea that you are going to raise the salary of the soldiers once you become king. Speaking of," he added as Christopher chuckled, "nice hair. You really look kingly with your brother's mad aura about you."

The prince grinned and stood, shaking out his hair with his hands. "Ugh, that's the last thing I want. Is there water here, Jasper?"

"Have a particular thirst, do you?"

"A little hairy, more like," he retorted, and followed Jasper's pointing hand to a basin tucked away behind the mannequins. Jasper was a good distraction from the stress of the revolution; as he shaved, his long-time servant and friend chatted amicably about the goings-on in Albion; about how Reaver had raised the prices of his weaponry and household items under Logan's orders, and how people were complaining but did nothing to stop them; the drinking laws had gotten stricter, and Logan was threatening to introduce conscription to the people; Reaver had publically killed a small handful of his labourers because they, like the man Christopher had seen with Walter his first time in Bowerstone Industrial, were protesting the long hours and low pay of Reaver's factories. And of course, Reaver had no repercussions for his actions.

"I always liked him," Christopher remarked, patting his smooth face dry with a towel Jasper seemed to provide out of nowhere. "Despite him being the biggest bastard in Albion, he always spoiled me and Logan."

"Well, he was your father's closest friend, aside from your mother and Walter," Jasper replied, brushing Christopher's leather boots clean.

Christopher grunted and tossed the towel, just to see if Jasper was as spry as he used to be. In a flash, the old man caught it before it hit the ground, and began folding it without a word of reprimand. "Have you noticed how he seems to get younger as the years go on? My earliest memory of him, he looked much older than Dad, but at Dad's funeral, he looked no older than Logan."

"Reaver is a very strange man, sire. Just curious, but how long do you intend to leave Captain Finn alone in Aurora? He must be dying of boredom without someone's ear to chat off."

Christopher gasped and jerked backward, knocking over the shaving soap. "Oh, shit!" he yelped, forgetting to be embarrassed by his language in his forgetfulness. Jasper merely looked at him, unsurprised by his exclamation. "I left Kirvi alone for so long!"

Finally, Jasper blinked, looking taken aback. "Kirvi, sire? Have you already met a lady friend?"

"Something of the sort. Ben's with her friend, but I said I was going to find Logie when I came here. Shit, shit, shit," he grumbled, rushing back to the map room of the Sanctuary. Jasper followed, muttering about Christopher's bad memory.

"You know, sire, this reminds me of the time you forgot your appointment with Lady Elise when you were seventeen," he said, pausing by the map table as Christopher rushed into the glowing blue of the cullis gate.

Christopher halted abruptly, only one foot on the platform of the gate. "Jasper…" he whispered, feeling a spasm of emotion hit him like a sack of potatoes.

"Oh. I am sorry, Christopher. I… I…" For the first time, he was at a loss for words.

"It's fine, Jasper. You forgot." Christopher backed into the cullis gate and sighed as the warmth of will flowed over him. Clenching his fist so his gauntlet tightened over his hand, he nodded to Jasper. "I'll come back as soon as I can." With that, he closed his eyes and let the will take him away.

His feet thudded onto hard golden dirt a moment later, and he ran out of the alley to find himself right back in the market square. A quick scan of the area found Kirvi was sitting where he left her, right outside the clothing shop, with Logie seated neatly beside her, his tongue lolling out of his salivating mouth.

Her eyes were big and childish, perfectly right with long, thick black lashes surrounding them. They stood boldly against her dark olive face as she watched him approach. "Where were you?" she asked, but there was no anger in her tone, thank Archon. "Your goat returned, but you did not."

"I got lost," he lied quickly, and for the first time was glad that growing up with Logan had taught him how to skirt the truth. "The layout of your city is so different than those in Albion." True enough.

Kirvi nodded and stood, stretching her long, slim brown arms above her head before wandering up to him, with Logie panting at her naked heels. "So now you have clothes. Do you want to return to Opal and the captain?"

"Just call him Ben." Christopher exhaled slowly and tried to calm his erratic heart. "He prefers it. And no, if you don't want to. If they aren't still playing keystone, he has likely managed to convince her to play blackjack, Bloodstone style," he admitted with a grimace.

Kirvi's big brown eyes blinked in confusion, and she pursed her plump lips. "What is Bloodstone?"

"Ah…" Christopher coughed into his hand and pointedly looked up at the sky, feeling his face heat up considerably. "It's a city in Albion."

He felt her gaze on him, expectant and questioning. "And how does that relate to blackjack?"

"Um." He shifted his weight on his feet, and winced when hard rocks poked through the thin sole of his sandals. "Bloodstone is a notoriously… um… hedonistic city," he said slowly, trying to pick the right words. "Uh, gambling, and drinking, and, ah, p-prostitution are encouraged. If it surprises you to know or not, Ben lived there for some t-time, and, um…" His heart was pounding so hard that he thought it might burst through his ribcage and explode. His face felt like the time when he and Logan were boys and their father used his fire will abilities to heat up their bathwater, and after he left and it was still cooling, Logan shoved his little brother into the steaming water.

When he looked back at Kirvi, her narrow jaw had dropped. "Your face is brighter red than Auroran blooms," she remarked, and he had no idea what she meant.

"Oh? All right."

"You were saying?"

Damn. He had to keep talking. He cleared his throat loudly and obtrusively, and rubbed his sweating palms on his pant legs. "Hm, well, ah, Bloodstone style gambling is either when the game is played backwards, or… um, the loser of a round… takes off their…" He hesitated, and instantly regretted it when he looked at Kirvi. She was practically grinning at his humiliation and blushing, something she didn't likely witness since all Aurorans seemed to possess dark skin. "Clothes," he finished stupidly.

A little giggle bubbled from her lips, and he pressed his lips together to keep from smiling in embarrassment. "Oh. Well. I hope Ben does not convince Opal to play that. As beautiful a man as he is, he is still much older than she. Her father would not approve."

Christopher bit the inside of his lip. Beside her, Logie whined and covered his snout with his paws. "Uh…"

Kirvi did grin this time; her teeth were startlingly white against her dark face, and the smile was almost too wide for her slim features. "Come on, Christopher. I want to show you the demon door."


	3. Suffering

"If it is any consolation," she said, curling her feet under her as she began unravelling a length of cloth, "I have never been able to open it either, though it is very good company on the days when Opal and the others are busy."

Christopher groaned and collapsed on his bed in the loft. His leg was in her lap, bare to the thigh. Grappling a pillow so it was clenched over his face, he said, muffled, "But I've opened some in Albion already, so why not this one? I _thought _I've been doing well enough to be considered moral… ouch!" He hissed sharply as Kirvi pressed her fingers into his swollen thigh.

She scoffed and scanned his leg. After being brutally rejected by the local demon door, he had been struggling with the jagged rocks and shifting sand, and tripped. Kirvi and Logie caught up to him after he slammed to a stop on one of the cliffs she and Opal enjoyed as a getaway, and she had helped him limp all the way back to the city and her house with one damaged leg.

The leg in question was in front of her. She was astonished at how _hairless _he was compared to the men of Aurora. Sure, the curly brown hairs lightly coated his legs from the knee down, but the pasty white thigh she was frowning at was as hairless as his face.

Which had suddenly lost its hair when _he _was lost in the city earlier that afternoon.

Her frown deepened, but she pushed away the thought. There was no way he could have just disappeared to shave his face and return. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe he had shaved when she had provided him with the water in the morning.

His knee was bloody and indented with dirt and rocks from his fall, and a long scrape ran down the length of his bony shin. Long slivers from the remains of a scraggly desert bush pierced his thigh, and Kirvi was in the process of removing them before bandaging him up.

Beside her, Logie whined nervously. Smiling absently, she patted the goatdog's head and murmured a consolation before grabbing the forceps she had stolen from her mother's medicine chest. "Bite something, Christopher," she encouraged, then pressed the point of the needles beneath his skin and wrenched out the worst of the slivers.

After the slivers were out, a healing cream was applied, and the leg was wrapped up, Kirvi sat back with her tired hands in her lap and simply watched as Christopher rolled back and forth, clutching the pillow and spewing out what sounded like every swear word he could think of, plus some.

Several minutes passed, and he finally calmed down enough to wipe his face, exhale heavily, and apologize for cursing like a sailor. Kirvi assured him that he was amusing, and he muttered something she barely caught, about how his recent behaviour made him feel like he belonged in Bloodstone instead of Bowerstone Castle.

They sat together in silence for a long time; he was simply resting, occasionally swearing under his breath, and she played silly games with Logie. Finally, after about an hour of this passed, Christopher summoned enough energy to push himself up, and he said, "Is there anything to dull the pain with?"

"Alcohol," she replied without a second thought. "Would you like it?"

He nodded and fell back onto his pillows with a _fwump_. "Lots."

Kirvi's brows rose, but she didn't question it. Maybe he didn't know…?

She decided, after fetching the alcohol and failing at getting him to take it slowly, that _no_, he didn't know that Auroran alcohol was very, _very _strong.

Christopher's eyes crossed and rolled back, and he grimaced until he looked like some horrible demon from a nightmare. "Ooh, that tastes like ass," he grumbled, holding out the earthen jug. Kirvi took it gently and noticed how badly his hand was shaking. "Sorry. But, hey, at least my leg doesn't feel like a hammer smashed it anymore. What—what's in that?"

"I have no idea. I do not know how to make it." She set the jug far away from him so he couldn't knock it over, and folded her hands in her lap to watch as he tried to sit up. And failed. Repeatedly.

"Mm. Can—can I say something, Kirvi?"

"Yes."

He finally gave up and simply sprawled on his back, talking to the ceiling. "This is the first time I've felt good since before Walter and Jasper and I started up this, this revolution. You know? Not that it's because of the drinking—but I guess I haven't done _that _since Logan was crowned and we both got _smashed _at his coronation party after. Wait, wait… how long ago was that?" He stuck out his tongue as if it would help him think. Curious, Kirvi scooted forward so she could see his face better. There was a cut on his cheek that hadn't been there that morning. Had he really shaved? "Eight years ago. Holy shit—sorry—I got hammed with my brother when I was _twelve_."

Kirvi held back a laugh at his expression. He looked lost in a dream; totally blissful, like a child with a new toy. "Congratulations. What about feeling good?"

"Oh. Oh yeah. Um." He managed to roll onto his side and peered up at her with big eyes. His face was flushed, just like it had been when he was badly explaining what Bloodstone blackjack was, only this time she was sure it was because he was very, _very _drunk. "No, but yeah, like I was saying, I just feel great. Happy, you know. I love Walter and Jasper and Ben, and I _still _can't believe my own brother had Major Swift killed, and—did you know that I had to hold Ben while he cried?" he blurted, suddenly distracted. "Major Swift was his closest confidante, and he helped Walter and I start organizing the revolution, and he pledged his allegiance and everything—and fucking Logan found out and had him executed. Sorry."

Kirvi waved the curse away. "Ben wept for Major Swift?"

"Um, yeah." Christopher sighed heavily and stuck out an arm. Logie interpreted it and rested his head on his master's side, looking just as sad and lost as the prince. "I don't think Logan saw us at the execution, 'cause it was just the two of us, and Ben was so strong, and I'm sure Swift saw us…" He slowed and blinked furiously. His eyes were bright and wet. "As soon as we were done reporting to Walter and Page, he just broke down. Walter and Page were gone, so it was just us, and he… he said how Swift was the only thing keeping him from going back to who he was, and how he couldn't go on without him, and… I guess that's how I feel about Walter." A small, shiny tear slipped down his nose and hung there for a moment before splashing onto his hand. "And des-despite Walter being sick from the Darkness, and us being shipwrecked here and nearly losing Ben, I just…" He snorted and lightly thudded his forehead against her knee. Kirvi smiled and patted his arm.

"Feel good?" she suggested.

"Yeah. Like, I'm terrified that Walter won't get better, and that I'll have to do this whole _overthrow my brother _thing without him, and I don't—I don't know if I can do that without him, or if I can, if I can rule Albion without him by my side." His eyes traced a path on the ceiling as though they were following some creature's movement. "He helped guide my father and Logan both as kings. I can't do it without him. I can't.

"But I still feel good. I think it's you," he said, squeezing his eyes shut in a grimace before peering up at her. He squeezed her knee and she flinched, ticklish. He gave a little chuckle, his smile lighting up his face. "See? You're a good distraction. I can just be _me _here—well, drunk me, I guess—and I don't have to—to worry about you judging me or thinking about everything I do as if I _was _the king. Like you said, you're Auroran. You do things differently here."

Less than an hour later, she had to console him as he vomited copiously into a bucket she just barely managed to find in time. Luckily, mouth still speckled with splashes of puke and red-faced and ruffled, Christopher collapsed into a loud, snoring sleep only minutes after he stopped bringing up food and alcohol.

Kirvi fell into a restless sleep in the loft, too tired to climb back down and go to the house. Early in the morning, she was awoken when Christopher grabbed at her arm, mumbling that he felt sick. They spent the rest of the morning and partway through the afternoon cleansing the poison from his body.

Finally, as the night was finally descending over Aurora, Christopher felt well enough to eat something and successfully keep it down. Sighing with relief, Kirvi slumped back against the wall and cupped her face in her hands.

"You are like a child," she decided, rubbing her tired eyes.

Christopher laughed from across the loft, then gave a short groan. "Ow, my head. Hey, how was I supposed to know that Auroran alcohol is extremely potent? I'm sorry for anything embarrassing I may have said or done last night, by the way."

"You do not remember?" Kirvi blinked and sat up, grabbing another mango from the basket of fruit she had brought in.

He shook his head as he stuffed his mouth with food. "Not much. I remember throwing up a bit."

Kirvi giggled and covered her mouth to keep from spitting out mango. "A bit? Christopher, even _my _hair stinks."

A grin stretched his face. "Sorry for that. I hope I wasn't horrifying you too much."

"Not at all. You were funny."

"You sound surprised. Not been around many drunk people?"

"I have never _been _drunk, Christopher."

"Hm." Christopher stretched leisurely and tossed the core of his fruit into the bucket of stinking vomit in between them. "We will have to rectify that some day. Besides having a headache that could knock Jack of Blades out of commission for a while, I have more energy than I can handle. Is there something active we can do here?" Just after his words left his lips, his face paled several shades and he made a pathetic noise, but Kirvi attributed it to his hangover.

Picking a bruise out of her fruit, she lifted one shoulder. "It is unlikely. We used to hunt and play in Shifting Sands, the desert outside the city, but Kalin discourages us from leaving."

"So?"

Kirvi stared at him. A slight stubble dusted his face once again, and he was hollow-eyed and scruffy from a restless night and hours of vomiting, but a smile stretched across his face, devious and excited all at once. "So?" she repeated.

"Let's go. You can show me the desert."

Horror and curiosity lanced her at the same time, leaving her exhausted in a split second. "What? No. It is too dangerous, Christopher. I understand you are a prince and you are accustomed to getting what you want, but—"

"Is that what you think?" he interrupted. The smile was gone. "You think I'm a spoiled brat who just has to say a word to get what he wants? Because that is nothing like how it is, Kirvi. It used to be that way, back when I lived in the castle, but I left that life behind me when Jasper, Walter and I fled and we decided to dethrone Logan. He's my _brother_, Kirvi, my own flesh and blood. Do you think I _want _to do this to him? I have been sleeping wherever I can find a bed ever since I left."

"You left of your own accord," she snapped back. "You could have stayed behind and continued a life of luxury. It is a different world outside your palace, Your Highness. Aurora is not Albion. We have been ravaged for the past five years by a demon that is indestructible, and your _brother_ promised four years ago to help us. Excuse us poor Aurorans if we do not appreciate those with enough money to lose ten grand gambling for fun."

The glower he shot at her was enough to make her feel uneasy, like he was about to lunge at her, weapons bared. She glanced nervously at his long, menacing sword. It was within distance, close enough for him to grab it if he so pleased.

"Kirvi, I am leading this revolution against all better, familial judgment _because _of that promise! I left it all behind so I could change things for the world, to make it better!"

She felt hot all over, like she was about to burst into flame. Swiping her hair out of her face, she slid across the floor to the ladder and descended heavily. As she turned around and started for the door, she heard Christopher scrabble across the wooden loft to reach the ladder.

"Kirvi, wait!"

"No!" She halted and turned to glare up at him. In the dim firelight of the storehouse, and the red fury blinding her, he suddenly looked much less appealing and friendly as he had before. "I do not care that you intend to change things! The point is that you led a privileged life, Christopher, and you expect others to bow to your every whim! If that was not so, you would not ask me to enter the desert—the place where our people die like rats in gas. You would not ask me to go to that place—to lure the Crawler back here so it can finish off the rest of my family! You have seen the Crawler; that is what killed my father, and it was your brother's selfishness, Christopher, that kept our people poor and starving and dying if we leave our homes. And it is _your _selfishness that wants me to sacrifice my life and my family so you can have fun in the sand!" Hot tears were streaking down her face; she had not openly discussed her father's death in such a way for years. All her fear of the Crawler and the Darkness and Aurora's impending and inevitable doom seemed to wash over her at once; as soon as he suggested exploring the desert just for fun.

The days of "just for fun" had been over for the past five years.

"But you are from wealthy Albion," she snarled, letting the tears soak her face and hair as she glared up at his pitiful face. "You are the son of a _king _and _Hero_. You cannot possibly understand any of this. You do not know suffering."

Without another look at his pleading eyes and hanging jaw, she turned and left the storehouse, letting her tears fall.

—

He found her at a spring just outside the city.

It was an oasis of sorts; hidden away in the cliffs, it was a small pond surrounded by the only green life he had seen since arriving in Aurora. Short tropical trees shaded the area—or would have, had it been daytime—and scrubby bushes and short grass circled the pool.

It could have been anybody, but he knew it was her because of the pile of clothes near his feet. The fiery beading would have been impossible to misplace. That, and Logie followed her scent like the good dog he was.

She was floating on her back, staring up at the sky so the moon and stars illuminated her face and made her and the water around her glow silver. Without the cursed pollution and smog of Reaver's factories blotting out the sky, Christopher was amazed at how beautiful the night sky really was.

He exhaled slowly and crunched loudly toward the oasis to make himself known. The water splashed loudly through the silence as she moved and turned toward him.

"What do you want?" she demanded, but she didn't sound as angry as she had been before.

Christopher crept a little closer, and Logie whined. "To talk, obviously," he replied and stopped at a rock at the pool's edge. Crouching on it, he watched as she swam toward him.

"What more is there to say?" She stopped several feet away and cocked her head to the side. With her long black hair wet and sleek over her small face, she looked like a beautiful water creature. A seal, perhaps, minus the whiskers.

"I want to apologize. And to explain. I understand that it does seem selfish what I said. But I also need to say…" He frowned and picked out the proper words. "You mentioned that my father was a Hero. Did you know that our ancestor was too? As was his? It runs in our family, apparently."

"So?" She treaded water, making the ripples around her glint in the moonlight.

Christopher held up his arm, the one with the gauntlet on it. Kirvi's big eyes followed it, but she said nothing. "One of the reasons I am the only one who can stop Logan, and why I left the castle, is because I am too. I only found out that night. It's the one thing our father gave me that Logan can't take."

Kirvi's brows arched, but in disbelief. "So?" she said again.

Patience was thinning. He snorted and a tuft of hair hanging in front of his face blew upward. "You said I don't know suffering. And that could be true, in some aspects." He had thought out what to say as he sat in the loft, and on the walk to find her, but nothing seemed adequate. "I don't know the suffering you and your people have endured. But I know my own. I am a prince, but it isn't something I've embraced. Had I been crown prince, it might have been different. I was tortured by my brother when we were boys, but that's just sibling stuff. My mother died when I was twelve," he murmured, lowering his gaze to his hands. The gauntlet seemed to glow orange in the night. "My father died right after. My brother began to destroy my country with his rules and laws. I sentenced m-my _f-fiancée _to _death_," he stammered, feeling his eyes prickle. Not now. Not here. Memories of that morning surfaced behind his eyelids; watching her pleading eyes and hearing the whimpering of those his brother condemned to death; hearing her soft, sweet voice tell him she loved him and that it had to be here, that there was no need for all those people to die. Only one had to.

Hearing the gunshot.

The water swished closer. He forced open his eyes to see Kirvi resting her arms on the rock he sat on, half-hoisted out of the water so she could see him better.

"I did not know." She whispered. The water beading her arms and face and coating her long ebony hair glowed; she looked as though she was an angel. "I am sorry."

Christopher nodded. His voice was gone; his throat had closed up at the thought of Elise. Since the months that had passed, he had done so well at keeping her pain at bay, but he knew he would have to confront it eventually. He had merely hoped it wouldn't have had to have been so soon. And not while he was in the process of losing Walter as well.

"May I ask you something, Christopher?"

"Of—of course." _Just please don't be about Elise_.

Kirvi drummed her fingers on the rock and tilted her head to the side. "Can we forget this argument ever happened? I know we have only known each other for three days, but the entirety of those three days has been spent in each other's company. I think I can comfortably call you a friend."

A heavy sigh exploded from his lungs. "Oh, thank Archon," he murmured, choking up. Slipping his feet from the rock, he dumped them, sandals and all, into the pool. It was surprisingly cool and warm all at once—the perfect temperature, and felt like silk as it surrounded his dirty feet. "I expected you to be a lot angrier."

"I was thinking of my own suffering. Forgive me if I come across poorly, but most of us Aurorans think wealthy folk have perfect lives with no wrongdoing. Had I known that you lost your fiancée…"

Christopher clenched his jaw and pulled his feet from the water. Kirvi pushed off the rock and drifted backwards, never taking her penetrating gaze from him. "It's all right. I should go back to the city." He pushed off the rock and made a soft noise to call Logie. The dog jogged up from one of the bushes, snout speckled with dirt.

"Of course. Until tomorrow."

"Yes. Goodnight, Kirvi." After she murmured her own goodnight, he strode away from the pond with Logie on his heels, snuffling behind the dirt on his nose. Once he was behind a rock, he crouched next to his dog, huddled the warm, soft animal to his chest, and summoned a cullis gate around them. Within moments, they arrived on the floor of the Sanctuary; Logie whining and emitting soft, pitiful howls, and Christopher hunched over himself, sobbing as Jasper hurried over and began the necessary consolations.


	4. A night with Ben Finn

The fire was beautiful. Her father had long ago taught her to appreciate the awesome power it brought with it, but also to treasure and revel in the magnificence that was the hues of flame. He had always been fascinated by it. He likely would have found it somewhat ironic that his death was caused by a monster that snuffed out all light, fire, sun, life, and otherwise.

Feeling a hand on her back, she looked up and Ben nodded so his messy blonde hair danced over his forehead. Touching her shoulder, he led her away from the torch at the door of the temple. Together, they walked into the ancient building. Kirvi inhaled slowly. It had been too long since she had been in the temple. Years, it felt like. Her father had always taken her here every week when she was still a little girl.

In silence, Ben led her into the main room. Kalin was kneeling next to one of the slabs of rock placed on the floor. Across from her was the priestess, hunched with her hands spread overtop the slab. And laid upon it was a lump of a man. Dressed in royal finery, with his weapons, beautiful and well-loved, laid out beside him, he looked as though he was simply asleep. His mouth hung open, and his messy grey hair flopped over his pale forehead. Unnaturally pale. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and lines seemed abnormally pronounced. Sand and dirt coated his clothing from an obvious hike through the desert.

"Kirvi," Ben whispered, holding out a hand, "meet Sir Walter Beck, Logan's former advisor, and Chris' mentor and best friend. Besides myself, of course."

Kirvi stepped closer to the slab and bent over the unconscious man. Evidence of the Crawler's attack was everywhere. The blackness and fatigue of his eyelids, and the bags beneath, as well as the rattling breaths that came slowly and unevenly. What few survivors there were after the Darkness' attacks on the City of Aurora all appeared in similar states of disrepair before they eventually succumbed to the illness.

When he spoke again, he sounded as though he was right behind her. "You know, I haven't seen Chris at all since you took him away to get clothes. And that was five days ago. Did something happen? You didn't kill him and bury him behind your house, did you? Sacrifice to the Crawler and whatnot?"

Kirvi stiffly shook her head. Sir Walter Beck was so pale he looked to be grey. "After we bought clothes for him, I took him to the demon door near town and he fell on the cliffs. I took him back to the loft to help him, and when he asked for something to kill the pain, he got drunk. After sleeping it off all the next day, we got into an argument, made our apologies, and…" She sighed heavily. Had that really been four whole days ago? "I have not seen him since."

"Any sign of Logie?"

"His goat? No."

"Hm." Ben rubbed his scratchy chin. "He's vanished. Bollocks. Come on, Walter needs his rest." He took her arm and led her away from the slab. They walked in the quiet of the evening until they left the temple and stopped on the precipice overlooking the City of Aurora. A pleasantly warm breeze blew in from the desert mountains, washing over them and sending sand into their clothes.

"So what did you and Princey get in a fight about?" Ben asked without preamble. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and flipped his hair out of his face, staring out over the city.

Kirvi shook her head and tied back her hair into a messy, floppy bun. "I accused him of knowing no real pain and he told me about his fiancée and family. I feel like the biggest fool," she groaned, rubbing her forehead to ease the memory. "He was so hurt by my words."

"Ah." He clucked his tongue and sighed. "Elise. He told me about her when Major Swift died. Bit of a bad day for the both of us, really. I think that's when I decided Logan really needed to be kicked off the throne of Albion. He made his little brother decide whether to kill a handful of people he didn't know, or one person he intended to spend the rest of his life with. He did the right thing, but it's been killing him ever since."

Kirvi bit her lip and folded her arms beneath her bosom. Where could he have possibly taken himself? Nobody had seen hide nor hair of Christopher and his goatdog since he had left her alone at the oasis outside the city. "He has known as much suffering as any man in Aurora. It is a different kind, but certainly as much."

Ben grunted his agreement. "He knew Elise since he was eight. Beat the pants off another boy for kissing her. Inseparable since, according to him, and to Walter, and to Jasper… got caught sneaking her into his room more than once when they got older." He laughed softly and his uniform and weapons clicked as he stretched. "They've been engaged since he was seventeen; they had only been waiting for the right time. Logan's tyranny made it hard, but he had given his blessing. So had their folks before they died."

Kirvi wished fervently that he would just _stop _talking about Christopher and Elise. It only increased the self-loathing she had felt for the past four days; she had reminded Christopher of such a deep and unending ache in her own selfish anger, and she hated herself for it. Talking to Ben only made her realize more and more just how much Christopher had loved—and likely still loved—his betrothed.

"Gorgeous, from what I heard. It's a shame, really." Ben shook his head and looked over at her. "Are you all right, Kirvi?"

She nodded shakily. "I am fine. I just… I wonder where he could have gone. I wish I could take back my words. I had no idea…"

"There was no way you could've known, love. It's not something people usually advertise. You'll be fine, and so will he." Ben took her in his arms and she pressed her face into his chest. His beautiful crimson waistcoat was amazingly soft, and she nuzzled against it, feeling her lips wanting to twitch into a smile. They had nothing that soft in Aurora. These visitors truly were wealthy.

Kirvi glanced up at his smiling face. "Do you know where he is, Ben?"

"Nope. Thought I already clarified that. I mean, I have an idea. After all, the boy can't have run off all the way home to Albion without a ship now, could he? And he's too much of a goody-two-shoes to steal one of the Auroran ships. He's probably just gone on one of his Hero trips."

Kirvi frowned and pulled away from him. Ben watched her, his own brows furrowing. Hero. Christopher had told her that he was a Hero. She was sceptical; in fact, she thought he was downright crazy. "He is a Hero?" she asked cautiously, as if the words would burn her.

"Yeah. Hasn't he told you?"

"He did…"

"But…?"

"I did not believe him."

Ben shrugged and ran a hand over his messy sand hair. "Well, it is a bit thick to swallow, isn't it? But it is the downright truth. When I first met him, he nearly blew up a whole contingent of soldiers with his will." When he spotted the blank look she was giving him, he waggled his fingers and added, "Magic."

"So…" Kirvi's face screwed up and she grunted softly. "What is a Hero trip?"

"Oh. Sometimes he just vanishes. Straight up disappears in some blue light. Walter told me a bit about it, but I still don't really understand. Hero stuff isn't really common knowledge anymore, eh?" Ben shrugged again and wandered over to the tip of the precipice. Leaning over, he whistled and shook his head. "It's his Sanctuary, I think Walter said. A place for him to be at peace. It really is something he needs, now that he's the leader of a revolution. The poor bugger."

Kirvi sighed and gracelessly lowered herself onto the ground. Crossing her legs, she leaned her face in her hands. "Is there no way to call him back?"

"No. Not that I know of, at least. If we had another Hero here, I'm sure we could try. But as far as I know, neither you nor I are of Hero blood, so…" Ben made himself comfortable across from her, frowning thoughtfully. "Look. Try not to worry too much about it, Kirvi. He'll come back when he's ready. He's just taking some well-deserved time off from this whole thing. He'll be back soon enough, and he'll be fine. And I'm sure your little spat won't matter at all to him anymore. He's probably just blowing off steam."

Kirvi smiled at him and held her hands together, bowing her head. "Thank you, Ben. You are a good man."

He grinned and scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, ha-ha, I don't know about that, but thanks. I do what I can."

She giggled and patted his knee before standing up. "If you see him, will you tell me?"

"I'll send him your way without a second thought," he promised, saluting from the ground.

Kirvi nodded and bade him goodnight before slowly wandering back into the city. She didn't want to go back into her house, but she knew she had no choice. It would feel so empty without Christopher and Logie joining her family to eat, to tell stories about Albion—the exotic, foreign land they knew so little about.

Dragging her fingers along the stone wall next to the stairs, feeling the rough bumps and rock beneath her skin, she realized with a heavy sigh that there was much she knew little about. Albion was just one of many.


	5. And a night in the sand

Two days had passed since her talk with Ben Finn at the steps of the temple. Kirvi was dangling her legs over the cliff face she and Opal frequented most, peering over the edge at the few people that braved the midday sun to get their shopping done. Even during the day, when no shadows could hide from the searing heat of the desert sun, people were panicked and fearing of the Darkness that could come at any second. She was one of the few who would wander the town as she pleased, despite the ever lingering fear of death.

Humming to herself, she inched a little closer to the ledge so she could see the city from a better angle. The door to her house opened, but before one of her siblings—it was too far to tell just which one—could run out into the streets, an arm shot out and yanked the child back inside. Her mother refused to lose her children as she had lost her husband.

She shifted a little closer. She could see across the expanse of Shifting Sands if she stretched her neck enough. Only the heels of her hands and the edge of her bottom were still on the cliff; her legs were hanging over the edge, totally free in the warm breeze.

"That looks a little dangerous."

The scream tore from her throat before she realized what had happened. Startled, she jumped, and her stomach and heart lodged in her throat, cutting off the screech as her hands slipped from the rough rock that was her perch.

"Oh, shit—_Kirvi!_"

Just as she began the weightless plunge off the side of the terrifyingly high cliff, something hard thudded into her, shoving all air from her lungs. Struggling to breathe, she choked as she continued falling. Wind whipped at her clothes, ripping her hair from its bun. The heavy thing clinging tightly to her body held strong.

She found her voice a moment later, and she screamed as loudly as she could, orally freeing her dread.

A loud boom shut her up, and a huge blast of energy and sand billowed past her, enveloping her in strange, tingling heat. She jerked, flailing, as the blast actually slowed her descent.

A second later, the breath was knocked out of her again as she slammed heavily onto the ground.

Kirvi blinked rapidly, staring up at the flawless blue sky. Her breath came back into her in a painful heave, and her chest rose frantically as she pumped air back into her lungs.

The lumpy form she was sprawled on groaned, and she gasped, rolling to the side to see Christopher staring at the sky, jaw hanging open as he struggled to breathe.

"Christopher!" she squeaked, and gawked at him, too stunned to try helping him up. "How are you alive?"

He moaned and lifted stiff arm to rub his face. "Ow. Oh, hell, ow." He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up onto his bottom, swearing and groaning the whole time. "Remind me to never do that again. It doesn't hurt as bad if I land on my feet."

Kirvi's gaze rose up to the ledge she had been sitting on only seconds before. They shouldn't have survived. At least—he shouldn't have, not if he had landed beneath her.

He rubbed the back of his head and awkwardly stretched. "Ow. Holy. Ow. Are you okay?" he asked, cringing.

She gawked at him. "Um… yes…"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you would've heard me, but I guess you didn't, and…" He winced again and gripped his shoulder. "Ow."

Wide-eyed, she shuffled backwards the slightest bit. "Christopher… how are you alive?"

Baring his teeth in a grotesque grimace, he crawled onto his hands and knees. Kirvi's already bugged eyes grew wider. The back of his shirt was torn open in several places, and blood leaked through, blossoming into the thin fibres of the dirty white tunic. "Um, it's something to do with, ugh, being a Hero," he muttered, carefully standing up. His legs wobbled, and he paled several shades, looking ready to collapse. "We, uh, have strong bones… or something…"

Kirvi stared up at him. She was only sore—and startled. He looked like he had just risen from the dead. "What… what happened? And sit down before you hurt yourself more."

Christopher didn't so much sit as he did fall back down. "I thought I'd surprise you," he explained, talking slowly and carefully, and every word was enunciated with pain. "Apparently I surprised you too much. I knew I'd be all right if I landed down here, but you? Not likely. Ow," he hissed again, grabbing his side. Kirvi merely watched him. She was too surprised to do anything but. "I grabbed you when you fell. I tried using force push to slow us down—which helped, some. And I managed to twist around so I'd land on the bottom. Ta-dah."

Force push. That must have been the hot energy that jostled her so badly. And the boom. Still, it didn't explain much. "What is force push?" she asked desperately.

He stuck out his arm to the side, and she watched, awed, as a tiny, bluish blast of energy erupted from the leather glove around his forearm. It sent a shockwave rippling through the sand around them, and a small, warm wind brushed her face.

"I'm too tired for anything better. Sorry." He curled his arm back into his body and screwed his eyes shut. "As useful and lucky that it was I had force push at the ready, I think I'm going to switch it up for fire again."

It slowly dawned on her. "That… that was your will? Your magic?" She resisted the urge to wiggle her fingers just as Ben Finn had when they were talking two days before. She could feel the sheer surprise of falling off the cliff and surviving ebbing away, to be replaced by hysteria.

Another tiny pulse shot out of the gauntlet, and dissipated with a tiny sigh.

"Yeah."

Something barked behind them, echoing off the cliff wall, and Kirvi glanced over her shoulder, past her windblown hair, to see Logie sprinting toward them, yelping frantically. He skidded up to his master and quickly began licking Christopher's face, whining and wagging his tail quickly enough to be a blur.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay, boy," the prince mumbled, pushing his goatdog off him. The animal barked again and bounced around Christopher's head, tongue lolling out in a big grin.

"Are you?" Kirvi asked.

He nodded and exhaled slowly. "It's just like when I fell by the demon door."

She frowned, not understanding, and gave his leg a sharp stare.

Christopher groaned and gazed blankly at the sky, obviously trying to smother his pain. "It hurt a _lot_, but I should've been more hurt, eh? And my leg should still be in pain, but it isn't. It felt better the next day. Just give me a little time. I'll be fine soon."

Kirvi nodded, still confused, and absently brushed her long black hair away from her face, using her fingers to fix the tangles. She stared at him, perplexed. His explanation helped things, sure, but she was still a little lost. "Christopher… where have you been?"

His sparkling brown eyes flicked her way, and he winced again, though this time it didn't look as though it was from the pain of falling onto his back. "I was… um… I was in my Sanctuary," he admitted with a very heavy sigh. Tediously raising his hand, he covered his eyes and rubbed his temples. "After we spoke that night at the oasis, I just couldn't stay here. I held back the memory of Elise for so long since it happened—and it's only been a few months. I had to be alone for a while."

So Ben was right again. The Sanctuary was a real thing.

She was beginning to think that Ben's words had to be taken seriously, despite how light-hearted they may seem.

"Can we go back to your house, Kirvi? I think I need to lay down on something that didn't just try to break my back."

"Oh! Yes, of course." She climbed slowly to her feet, and discovering that she wasn't broken and could still walk fine, she helped him up and they wandered back into the city.

It took much longer than it should have, because despite being impervious to brutal falls, Christopher was still weak. People stared blatantly as they hobbled into town, leaning on each other for support as Logie sprinted in circles around them, barking and occasionally veering off to chase the local chickens.

Just as they were about to make it to her yard, where they would hopefully make it into the loft without too much trouble, a loud voice shouted, "Hey! Chris!"

They paused and looked back at the market as Ben trotted up to them, waving to get their attention.

Christopher groaned softly. "Hello, Ben."

"Where've you been? We've all been worried sick." Ben slapped Christopher's shoulder, and didn't seem to notice as the younger man nearly buckled. "Walter woke up, eh?"

Kirvi scowled at Ben as Christopher perked up. "He did?"

Ben laughed and shook his head. "No, but I got you going there. Were you at the Sanctuary?"

"Yes."

"Elise?"

"Yes."

"Better now?"

"Yes." Christopher's voice grew darker and more irritated every time he said the word.

"Good." Ben nodded at Kirvi, then stopped and frowned. "Well, you two are awfully out of breath. Did something happen?" He arched his brows at Christopher, and the prince growled menacingly.

"We fell off a cliff, Ben," he snapped, then groaned and grabbed his side again. "Ow. I travelled right behind her and she didn't hear me and I scared her off the edge. All right?"

Ben held up his hands and stepped back. "All right, all right, I get the point. You should get some rest then, Chris. I'll keep looking out for ol' Walter up there."

Hope rose up in Christopher's dark eyes. "Is he…?"

"Doing better, Kalin says." Ben smiled slightly; a true genuine gesture, rather than his usual cocky grins. "He groaned the other day while you were gone. I couldn't wait to tell you. It's the most active he's been yet."

Christopher chuckled softly and shook his head. "It's a start. He'll be better soon."

Ben nodded and the smile widened. "He sure will. Go heal up, Hero. See you guys around."

Kirvi murmured a soft goodbye to the captain before helping Christopher through the fence to the backyard of her family's hut. Together, with Logie still circling them, they made it into the storehouse and up the ladder to the loft, before both passing out on the blankets and cushions, sleeping away the pain.

—

Kirvi woke up sometime in the dark of night. She slowly pushed herself off Christopher's legs and looked around the loft. Soft silver moonlight shone in through the cracks and windows of the storehouse, and outside she could hear nothing more than the desert winds and Logie grunting in his sleep. Beside her, Christopher was snoring loudly. Likely what woke her up.

She shuffled over to his side so she wasn't sprawled on his legs anymore, and stole a glance at his back as she did. It was still bloodied and his shirt was still torn, but it didn't seem to be causing him any discomfort as he slept.

Amazed, she lightly touched one of the huge purple blotches that was already covering most of his back. He continued snoring away, not even noticing.

Propping herself against the wall by his head, she sighed and looked around the loft as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Well. She was perfectly awake and doubted much success in trying to sleep again.

Glancing down, she looked at Christopher again. The gauntlet shed a slight bit of pale blue light against his face where it was pressed, illuminating the whiskers on his cheeks and adding dramatic shadows to his slack, sleeping face.

She smiled slightly. He looked like a little boy. With a beard.

With that, she slapped his face and he squawked, jerking awake and thudding his head against the low roof.

"Ow, Archon, _why_ would you make me _do_ that?" he whined, clutching his head and grimacing at her.

"Your snoring woke me up. It is only fair you are awake too. Although," she added, smirking, "I didn't mean for you to hit your head."

Christopher scowled at her and rubbed his head so his already messy hair fluffed up even more. "Well, thanks. Now that I'm awake, what do you want?"

Kirvi bit her lip and glanced out one of the small square windows of the loft. The desert seemed utterly at peace beyond the City of Aurora. "I do not know. I…" She cast a wary glance his way and his scowl deepened. "Do you want to see Shifting Sands, Christopher?"

His jaw slowly creaked open. "What? You're offering to take me into the desert? But I thought it was too dangerous. I thought Kalin had forbidden it."

"Well, she discourages us, but it is not forbidden. Not yet. And if we get caught and get into trouble," she added with a shrug, "we can plead innocence. After all, I am but a child and you are a foreigner. How were we supposed to know?"

A slow smile spread across his scruffy face. "You're right. Are you sure about this, Kirvi?"

She hesitated, looking down at her hands. "Only if you promise to keep me safe."

The smile morphed abruptly into a grin. "Of course. I can do that. I'll be right back."

Kirvi watched, expecting him to get up and run outside to pee, but rather he was quickly enveloped in cool blue light. Her mouth hung open and she reached out to touch it, but just as her fingers would have brushed the tingling force field, it was gone and so was Christopher.

She waited, awestruck, for several minutes. She knew he was coming back from—wherever—when the air began to prickle and shimmer, and the blue light streaked down from the ceiling.

Then there he was. Sitting there like he had never left.

Only this time, the scruffy beard was gone, he had a different shirt on, and there were weapons on his hip and back.

Grinning widely, like a little boy being given candy, he hopped off the loft and held up his arms for her. "Ready?"

Kirvi gawked, and had a ping of regret as she followed him out of the storehouse.

She led the way through Aurora. There weren't any people out, but she knew they had to be careful. She was only vaguely aware of the trouble they would be in if they were caught fleeing the city in the dead of night to explore the desert. Kalin would be furious. Her mother would likely ban her from ever laying eyes on Christopher again.

Even Logie seemed to understand the necessity to stay quiet. He peered up at them as he trotted alongside Kirvi, his tail hanging beneath his legs and his dark, shiny nose twitching. Christopher bent and patted the goatdog's head, whispering something soothing, before straightening and slinking after her into the shadows.

Kirvi nervously scanned the city one last time to be sure that nobody had seen them creep toward the exit. Once comfortable that they were the only living things wandering the city, she pressed a finger to her lips and hurriedly jogged out of Aurora and into the desert of Shifting Sands.

Christopher lunged past her down the stairs into the desert, whooping with excitement. Logie barked, sprinting past him and burying his nose in the sand as if he hadn't been free to play in months. Kirvi slowed and smiled as she watched Christopher skid down into the loose golden sand, picking up handfuls of the stuff. Being cooped up in a foreign city hadn't been good for him, she knew; freedom was what he needed. Freedom to make his own choices and go where he pleased.

She finished walking down the steps and Christopher ran up to her, red-faced and grinning.

"You really wanted out, didn't you?" she teased, smirking at him.

Christopher laughed and scratched at his messy hair. "I don't like being trapped. The servants and nobles at home always thought it strange that I would leave Bowerstone Castle to explore the city or the countryside. Spending a few days or weeks in one place is fine, but after that, I like to move."

She waved a finger at him. "I do not think you are meant to be a prince, Christopher."

His brows rose. "What do you mean?"

She giggled and flicked his nose, making him snort. "I think you are meant to be an explorer. You want to move. You want to be free. Princes cannot do that."

He rubbed his nose. "And I think you're too wise for a sixteen year old girl."

Kirvi shrugged one shoulder and held onto his arm to keep from slipping on the sand. "Show me your will?"

Christopher grunted and held up his hands. This time there were two gloves, rather than just one. "You want to see more magic tricks? Sure."

"You have two?"

"I rarely use two. But yes, I have two. This is fire." He held up his right hand. "This is vortex." Left. "My favourite combination if I have to use two gauntlets. Again. Rare. I prefer using my pistol." He slipped the beautiful weapon in question from its holster on his hip and twirled it elegantly in his fingers before putting it away once more. Kirvi grinned, exhilarated by the show.

Christopher took several steps back, nearly slipping on the sand, and held up his arms beside him. "Stay there. You'll be safe. Trust me."

Kirvi nodded enthusiastically and waited.

His fingers curled into claws as they spread out to his sides. The sand whispered, and he moved his feet to the sides to widen his stance, to brace himself. His knees bent. And the gloves binding his hands began to glow.

Kirvi watched in awe as the gauntlets lit up. Shimmering orange and silver light burst into existence around his hands, and a second later they combusted. Fire erupted over one hand, spitting and flickering as a breeze began circling him. His hair was whipped around his head and his clothes pressed around his body. The wind picked up. The fire rose to a growl.

It encircled him, flying and growing to a roar.

The shriek of the wind and the flames grew louder, and the fierce whirlwind spread outward, the fire licking the sand and creeping toward her toes.

Kirvi gasped and backed up, but she caught Christopher's gaze through the whipping flames. His eyes told her to stay put.

Suddenly, there was an explosive _boom _and the fire blasted outwards in a miniature explosion. A blast of hot air shot outwards and washed over her, and harmless fire lapped at her skin and hair, sending heat over her entire body before dissipating into nothing.

And Christopher was crouched on the sand, eyes sparkling as they locked on hers, mouth pulled into a proud smirk.

Her mouth was hanging open, and she was pleasantly warm all over, from the whirling fire and the strange tingle that she was beginning to associate with magic—with will.

"That… was incredible," she murmured, slowly walking up to him. Besides a crater where the wind had shoved away the sand, the ground at his feet was untouched.

Christopher straightened and dusted off his hands. "Thanks." A film of perspiration sparkled on his forehead and his breathing was slightly heavy. It had sapped his energy. "Good to know someone appreciates it for its beauty."

"It is an amazing and powerful gift," she remarked, smiling as she reached out and tentatively touched the leather gauntlet. It was the fire one; it was slightly warm still from its exercise.

He started to nod, but stopped midway. His eyes stared over her shoulder, wide and startled, and his jaw slowly dropped. Kirvi frowned, her hand falling to her side. "Kirvi…" he whispered as his dog barked, panicked, "what is that?"

Nervousness shot through her as she turned. Far behind them, but not far enough to be unnoticed, slim black figures were slowly stalking toward them, weapons brandished.

"Sand furies," she hissed, horror lancing her heart. Before the Darkness had overwhelmed Aurora, the sand furies had been their only major predator—the only thing, besides dehydration and disorientation, that they had to worry about when they ventured into the inhospitable desert.

Christopher's arm shot over her, pushing her back behind him. Logie was barking frantically, circling them with his tail tucked between his legs.

The pistol clicked as Christopher pulled it from the holster. "Be careful," he whispered, giving her arm a tight squeeze before slowly lifting his gun. The barrel pointed straight to the fury in the lead, its aim true. His arm didn't even shake. "Stay close to me. I promise they won't hurt you."

Kirvi's fingers loosely gripped his shirt, and she watched, terrified, as the sand furies lurked closer.

Finally, just as the leader bent its knees and growled, ready to pounce, Christopher's finger smoothly pulled back the trigger.

With a boom that made her scream, the gun discharged and the fury shrieked, collapsing back on the sand with a spray of dark blood.

Shot into action, the rest of the dark-swathed creatures leaped forward, screeching loud enough for their voices to echo off the canyon walls. The loose sand exploded around them as they launched off the ground, flipping forward as they wrenched out their weapons of choice.

Christopher didn't waste any time. Within moments, three of the sand furies fell to the ground, screaming as they clutched at the blood bubbling from their wounds.

"Do you know how to reload a gun?" he shouted as he unloaded his next shot. The sand fury dodged the shot, and the bullet sank uselessly into the sand.

Kirvi shook her head and added a pitiful, "N-No!"

He grunted and fired a sixth shot. It seemed to be the last; he stuffed the pistol back into its holster and ripped the long sword from his back. It flew from its sheath with a metallic ring; as soon as it was in his hands, Christopher dropped his stance, bending his knees and holding up the blade, waiting for the sand furies to come closer.

Kirvi screamed as he jumped forward and swiped at the closest monster. The tip of his sword caught in the front of its strange black robes, but the fury leaped back before major damage could be done. It pulled out its strange, curved sword and screamed as it sliced it sideways. Christopher neatly parried it away and spun, cutting the chest of another creature before yanking back his arm and sending the blade through the gut of the first. He ripped his sword from the fury, and it shrieked as it collapsed in the sand, writhing and staining the grains horrible dark red.

Logie burst out of thin air behind Kirvi and pounced on the fallen fury, snapping his jaws at its exposed neck.

Horrified, she looked away, still clinging to Christopher's back.

Christopher moved fluidly as he brought the sword down on the next sand fury. He barely took any time to finish it off before jumping to the next one, grunting as he brought up his bloodstained blade. Logie would pin the fallen creatures, ripping out whatever remained of their lives as he snarled and bit.

With an echoing shriek and a wet crunch, the final sand fury fell to the ground, twitching in its final throes. Christopher yanked his sword from its gut, panting as he stumbled back and smiled awkwardly at Kirvi. Sweat glistened on his brow, plastering his unruly hair to his face, and blood speckled him everywhere, staining his clothes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, shakily sheathing his sword. "You aren't hurt, are you?"

She hastily shook her head, quaking all over. "I am fine. I am unhurt… you… you are the finest warrior I have ever seen, Christopher," she whispered, her fingers quivering as she reached out and lightly touched the blood speckles over his shirt. His chest was heaving beneath her hands. "You did not even get scratched…"

He grinned, showing off his somewhat straight teeth as he wiped off his forehead. Blood streaked across his skin. "Thanks. I think it's a Hero thing. Plus, those things—those sand furies—aren't that difficult to fight."

She gawped at the mass of bodies around them. The first to die were beginning to collapse beneath their black garments; the dead flesh looked to be turning into sand, going back to the desert.

"I…" She shuddered, and his hands suddenly came up to her shoulders. "Oh…"

"Are you all right?" When he received no answer, Christopher held her closer and whistled sharply. Nearby, Logie barked and trotted closer. "Hold still," the prince whispered, and Kirvi obeyed, pressing her face into his chest and digging her fingers into his chest.

Cool, tingly blue light burst into existence around their bodies, covering them in a column of magic. Kirvi gawked, amazed, as it enveloped them until nothing of Shifting Sands could be seen beyond the shimmering azure.

Then her feet touched hard stone, and the blue faded away.

As Christopher groaned, muttering something about hating cullis gates, and Logie whined and limped over to a bed nearby, Kirvi looked around, jaw hanging open. They were in a cavernous room, as large as the Aurora temple, lined with doors and pillars. A large table squatted in the centre of the circular room, with mountains and colourful paint covering the surface. A map. Little wooden pieces were placed on a yellow bar on one side, and Kirvi shuffled forward after Christopher. In the Albion tongue, across the yellow bar, it read Aurora. The pieces obviously marked out where Christopher was in his travels.

Several shelves lined one part of the wall to her left, near the basket where Logie was curled up, sighing heavily. And from one of the doors on the right, where she could just see a small pile of something shiny and yellow, an aged man stepped out, hands tucked politely behind his back.

He smiled, but surprise shone in his eyes. Bowing quickly, he said, "Good evening, sire. Looking a little worse for the wear, are we?"

"I am exhausted, Jasper." Christopher sat on the edge of the map table, rubbing his face. He was smeared with blood.

"I can see that, sire. May I ask who this lovely young lady is?" The old man's smile widened, deepening the already bold lines etched across his face. He gave another deep bow and said, "I am Jasper, madam, servant and friend of Prince Christopher here. And you are?"

"Kirvi," she replied, unsure how to make her title more pompous. "Where are we?"

"This, madam, is the Sanctuary. A safe haven for our dear prince here, as it was for his father before him. It is a place to relax, to become tranquil, and to store anything he may pick up along his travels." Jasper waved an arm to the doors. "A nice apartment, if you will. A bit bare of furniture, but it does its job quite well."

She gazed at the beautiful stonework of the room. It was unlike anything that they had in Aurora, where the building supplies were rare and difficult to work. "Oh. It is incredible. Are we safe here?"

"From anything, madam. Nothing can penetrate this room, besides another Hero, and we have yet to pick up another in our travels." Jasper smiled warmly again. "May I get you anything, madam? You look rather shaken."

"Tea," Christopher rasped. His breathing had calmed, and he was sprawled on top of the table, staring at the ceiling. The wooden pieces were knocked over beside his hip. "Tea and hot water and new clothes. For both of us. Please," he added belatedly.

Jasper nodded and bowed. "Very well, sire. I shall return in a moment." With that, the well-dressed old man trotted into one of the doors, vanishing down the hallway.

Kirvi gently ran her hands over the lip of the table. The wood was beautifully polished, shining and perfect. "This is amazing," she murmured, nudging Christopher's dangling knee with her hand. "You are so lucky to have it."

Christopher chuckled softly. "I like it. It's definitely a place to go when I need it. Jasper was right."

"This is the Jasper you mentioned?" She glanced back at him, wandering across the room to see a framed piece of paper on the wall. It was a pledge with Christopher's messy signature on the bottom. He was promising to help recover and rebuild the lands stolen by King Logan to the Dweller people of the northern mountains. She didn't know what it meant, but somewhere inside her, she hoped Christopher would uphold the vow.

"It is. He's been my servant since I was a boy, living back at the castle." He gave a low chuckle, and she heard the rustle of his clothes as he pushed himself up. "He would always keep it to himself when Elise snuck into the castle."

Kirvi sighed softly and looked away from the pledge. He would mention his fiancée again, wouldn't he? She didn't want to hear about the girl. She was uncomfortable with the idea of even listening to stories about her.

"He seems very nice." She turned past the next door and spotted another plaque. He had made many promises. Perhaps Aurora got one too.

"He is. He's one of the best friends a guy could ask for." He groaned and his sandals made a soft click as he hopped onto the floor. "He'll be back in a second. Then we can clean you up."

Kirvi turned, her brows rising. "Clean _me _up?" she twittered. Christopher smiled lopsidedly. "I think you need cleaning up more desperately than I."

"Maybe. We'll see who Jasper attacks first, shall we?" He stretched his arms above his head and calmly cracked his neck. "So this is my Sanctuary." He waved his arms around the room, shrugging absently. "It's where I go when I want to vanish."

"It does its job well. Nobody could find you."

"That's the point, typically."

The soft click of heels on the floor met her ears, and she turned to see Jasper returning from the hallways, a silver and gold tray in his hands. He set it on the map table next to Kirvi and Christopher practically leaped on the tea.

"Madam, shall we fix you up? You look a right mess, if you don't mind me saying." Jasper held out an arm, and Kirvi took it, startled at his politeness. He led her down yet another hallway, and they emerged in a huge circular room lined with elegant outfits and huge glass vials of colourful dye. Kirvi's breath was tugged from her lungs as Jasper released her arm and began pacing around the mannequins, muttering to himself.

"There is a basin of water and cloths behind the screen there, madam, if you wish to clean up," he said as he pulled out the sleeve of an elegant gown.

Kirvi wandered behind a large screen and found the aforementioned water. With a breath of relief, Kirvi stripped off her filthy clothes. Dropping them on the floor, she soaked one of the cloths and began patting her skin clean.

Jasper emerged behind the screen after a few minutes holding an armload of finery. Kirvi jumped, surprised, and watched curiously as he set down the clothes on the seat of a nearby chair and began rifling through the pile. "Admirers of our dear prince have bestowed upon him the most bizarre assortment of garments. For whatever reason, he was given women's clothing. Probably to encourage marriage, but…" Jasper shrugged and held up a silk shirt with a low scooped neck and thick belt tied around the waist. "I hope this is to your liking. I'll get your clothes cleaned and fixed as soon as I possibly can for you, madam, but until then, I hope this will suffice."

Kirvi gingerly reached out and touched the fine material. The silk was cool against her skin; so soft it felt like she was touching the pure surface of water. With Jasper's help, she struggled into the foreign garments; the beautiful silk shirt, a knee-length skirt of a shimmering golden hue. She politely refused slippers, choosing instead bare feet for the sands of the desert.

Then, despite protests, she was sat in a chair facing a speckled mirror, and Jasper quickly washed and combed her long black hair, pulling it back in a comfortable yet elaborate bun that twisted around the crown of her head. When he was finally finished, he led her back into the foyer of the Sanctuary, where Christopher was sprawled on his back on the map table, swinging his legs over the side as he hummed to himself.

"Christopher, sire," Jasper said, patting the prince's knee. Christopher glanced up, hair scruffier than usual, and his jaw dropped.

"Wow… Kirvi, just… wow…" He shook his head and pushed himself off the map table. "You look… amazing. I mean, you always looked amazing, but you look… wow."

Kirvi felt her face heat up and she turned away, embarrassed. Jasper chuckled and lightly pushed Christopher toward the wardrobe room. "Oh, goodness, madam, you've made him speechless. This boy _never _runs out of things to say. Congratulations. It's quite the feat. We shall return once he's decent. Please, make yourself at home."

She didn't have to be told twice. Once Jasper and Christopher were gone, she wandered around to the promises hanging from the curved wall. The Dweller mountain people, the slums of Bowerstone, and many more: all received promises, signed and sealed by Prince Christopher of Albion, that once he toppled his brother Logan's rule and he became king, he would undo the damage Logan had done to their land and their people. And there, at the end, a promise to Aurora, written in Kalin's large, swooping hand in the Albion script, and signed messily at the bottom by Christopher.

She was still looking at it, tears welling in her eyes, when Jasper announced that Christopher was cleaned up, and they should spend the night in the Sanctuary before going home to Aurora.

At the mention of her dear land—the golden, rolling sands raped by the Crawler and its minions; her city, with her people scared and losing loved ones like mice in a trap—her tears finally escaped and she fell to the floor, weeping.


	6. Snogging, stories, and more snogging

Bearing freshly washed and stitched garments, Kirvi, Christopher and Logie arrived in Aurora just as dawn broke over the rocky mountaintops. Before anyone could leave their homes and catch them, they hurried into the city and crawled into the loft, setting their old clothes aside before climbing up into the makeshift bed.

"Doesn't your mother mind you staying out here with me?" Christopher asked abruptly as he helped his goat onto the bed beside them.

Kirvi glanced back at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he began, pulling off the coat Jasper had forced on him despite his protests that he was staying in a _desert_, "I mean, you've spent a couple nights out here with me. If I had wandered off to some lady's house when I was your age, my parents would have certainly forced me back home. Of course, my parents were both dead when I was your age, and Logan really didn't care what I did, and Walter and Jasper had no say… which is probably why I'm such a bad kid," he finished jokingly. "But in all serious, it seems… odd. Improper."

"I can leave if you wish it of me."

"I don't! No, no, that's not what I mean, not in the slightest. I don't _want _you to leave, I just… never mind." He sighed and smiled at her, his face pleasantly free of the brown stubble. "Forget I even said anything."

Kirvi smiled sweetly. "All right. Have you any adventures in mind today?"

"Not really. I'm still a little worn out from last night. Want to just stay inside?"

Hearing the hopeful tone to his funny accent, she nodded. "Of course. I do not mind. Ben knows where to find us if there is any word on Walter, and my mother can easily come back here if she needs our help. Nobody will care so much if we take the day off."

Christopher grinned then, making happiness well up inside her. He neatly folded up the coat and draped it over the edge of the loft, then kicked off his boots, letting them thud to the storehouse below. Dressed only in simple grey trousers and a beautifully lined silk shirt, he looked every part the prince he was. Kirvi bit back a smile as she admired him. He could make any outfit look regal, from the plain cotton of the desert to his fancy tunics and polished boots from Albion.

He settled back on the bed, and at his encouragement, Kirvi cuddled up beside him, using his arm as a pillow. Logie whined and curled up on their legs, and Kirvi realized for the first time just how heavy the stupid goatdog was. Once they were all settled, Christopher sighed and rested his head on hers.

"You know, I actually quite like Aurora. Despite all the problems, it's quite peaceful."

"Peaceful?" Kirvi snorted. "You are in the wrong place if you think this is peaceful."

"Well, _this _is peaceful," he murmured, gesturing vaguely with his hands. "Just lying here with you and Logie. You make it easy to forget about Logan and Walter and the revolution. Thank you for that."

"You're welcome."

Christopher shifted so they faced each other, tips of their noses touching. His wrinkled cutely, and Kirvi giggled. "You're a lot of fun, Kirvi. If I'm going to be honest, when Ben first told me that we were coming to Aurora, I didn't think I'd come to like anybody as much as I like you. Thought you'd all be heathen devils or something just as absurd."

"Why?"

"Probably from the stories Reaver told me and Logan when we were boys. He really does like Albion over other places, that fellow. But Aurora is beautiful, and so are her people." His lips pulled up into a smile, and Kirvi felt a ripple of goose bumps wash over her skin.

"Flatterer," she managed to breathe, her voice raspy and lost.

Christopher chuckled; it was so quiet, she felt it rumble through his chest into hers rather than hear it. "Maybe."

—

Ben found Christopher long before Logie could sniff him out and give away his cover. The darling prince was sitting on the sand in the city, his back against a stall wall, his faithful border collie seated between his knees, tongue lolling out and drooling dog spit on the dirt in front of his master.

With fresh cuts and bruises and new clothes from Albion, Ben would bet his left nut that Christopher had recently been at the Sanctuary.

"Chris!" he called, just loud enough for the prince to hear.

Christopher perked up, a smile stretching across his face as he spotted the captain. "Hey, Ben. Any news on Walter?"

"Not since I last told you. Everyone's staying optimistic, though." Ben trekked the last of the distance between them and seated himself on the hard-packed street beside his friend. Shielding his eyes from the unrelenting sun beating down on them, Ben frowned and gave Christopher a long stare. "You look bloody happy for someone who's been through the shit you've been through," he remarked blandly.

Christopher jerked as if Ben had startled him. "What do you mean?"

"You've got a big stupid grin on your face, Chris. Thought you'd maybe noticed," he said sarcastically. "It being on your face and all. And you're all red, but I doubt that's a flush from the sun."

The prince's smirk was far too wolfish for the sweet Hero boy Ben had first met, trembling and shitting in his pants while he fought off hollow men in Mourningwood. Something was definitely up.

"Can you keep a secret if I tell you, Ben?"

"Depends on the secret."

"Well, I'm not telling you then. You can't tell a soul. Not Walter, Jasper, Page, Sabine—anybody."

"In case you haven't noticed, Princey-pie, Page and I haven't exactly hit it off yet, and I never can find Sabine, and when am I _ever _going to talk to Jasper if he's hiding away in his Sanctuary all day and night? Also, Walter's out like a light. Tell me?" Ben put on his sweetest, most charming and adorable face, dimples and all, that usually got him anything and everything he wanted from somebody, whether it was information, a game of cards, or a good lay.

But Christopher was still wary. His eyes narrowed, and Ben sighed, dropping the smile.

"All right. I cave. I promise I won't tell a soul. Not even your pretty Auroran girl, who is suspiciously absent, I might add."

Christopher took Ben's outstretched hand. That was it. A promise was a promise; they shook on it, and nobody could say Ben Finn wasn't a man of his word. Christopher's secret would stay a secret with him.

The prince leaned in, and Ben perked up, excited. "I did it," Christopher whispered.

Ben's brows dropped. "Did what?"

"I snogged her."

It took a moment to register in his brain, but when it did, Ben groaned. "Oh, grand. Tell me when you've done more than kiss a foreigner, Chris."

"Well, it came bloody close, Ben," the prince snapped back, still smirking, but his face grew an even darker red. Well, well. "Kind of hard to keep one's mind on the fact that one is trying to save the world from one's evil brother when there's a _sexy foreigner_ straddling one's hips in a provocative manner not befitting a girl of her age. Also," he added, a little less lustily, "Logie thought she was hurting me and bit her to make her stop, so… there was an end to that. She's still at her house, helping her mother take care of the children."

Ben chuckled and rubbed Logie's head. The dog whined in ecstasy and tried to lick Ben's hand. "Good boy, Logie," he said in your typical _I'm-talking-baby-to-a-bloody-dog _voice. "Good boy, stopping the scary lady from hurting your pretty princey. A prince," he said, regular tone, with a glance at Christopher's beet-red cheeks, "who is apparently thinking with the wrong head."

"Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same, Ben. You've told me all about your past in Bloodstone."

"No, I _wouldn't _do the same—I'd have kicked the dog away and finished the job, but you're too much of a—Kirvi!" he shouted, halting himself just in time to see her emerge from her nearby house dressed in Albion finery. "Fancy meeting you here!"

Her elegant black brows tugged together—he doubted she had ever heard that particular phrase before—but she ignored him and strode up to them, barefoot as usual. "Good afternoon, Ben," she greeted, tucking her knee-length skirt around her legs and sitting next to them. As discreetly as he could bear, Ben leaned in and gave her a quick once-over.

He held back a laugh in a wheeze, garnering a heated glare from his future king. "Did somebody try to throttle you, Kirvi?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Kirvi frowned at him, not understanding. Her fingers lifted to her neck; she glanced at Christopher, then back at Ben, and realization crossed her face in a sudden thunderstorm of shock. "Oh. Um. No. I'm… I'm afraid not, Ben…"

"Fuck off, bugger," Christopher hissed, neatly kicking Ben's chest so he fell back on the dirt with a thump that knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Heroes apparently kicked harder than necessary, even if unaware of it.

Taking his as his cue to leave, Ben hauled himself to his feet and gave Kirvi an elaborate bow. "A pleasure, as always, milady. I'll go check on Walter." She nodded and turned to pet Logie, and once her gaze was averted, Ben caught Christopher's eye, winked, and made a rude gesture toward Kirvi before turning his back on them and making his way back up the stairs to the Auroran temple.

—

Peering into a mirror supplied by Christopher after a brief trip to his Sanctuary, Kirvi gently prodded one of the marks on her neck. "My mother was asking why I looked like a bruised fruit," she said slowly, her fingertip poking at the already-dark bruise.

Christopher chuckled. "We call them hickeys in Albion. Some kids think it's a sign of sexual prowess."

She turned back, setting the mirror down on her lap, to see him leaning against the wall of the loft, arm slung casually over his raised knee, his dark eyes on her with a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Sexual prowess?" she repeated flatly. "I do not think so. I think this just means you sucked on my neck for too long." She lifted the mirror again and winced as she turned her head, admiring the thick ring of bruises looping around her flesh like a necklace.

"Well, there's that too. I had one on my forehead when I was a boy."

"Your forehead?" She dropped the mirror outright this time, crawling on her knees to sit opposite him.

"Yes. Right in the middle. Some crazy noble girl attacked me and tackled me to the ground when we were about five or six. Had a bit of a crush on me, I think. Anyways, I had no idea it was there until Dad's friend Reaver pointed it out when he came to the castle later that day, and he flicked it; Logan thought that was hysterical, and every time he saw me for the next fortnight, he made a point of flicking my forehead as hard as he could."

"What happened to the girl?"

"Oh, next time I saw her, she apologized, with her father holding her shoulder and my father glaring them down the whole time." He smiled lopsidedly and scratched the back of his neck. "Nicest man I've ever met, my father, but he had a good knack for terrifying people when he needed to. I think it may have come with the job of being king. Moral of the story: don't get a hickey on your forehead, because people _will _take advantage of it to hurt you."

There was a desperate bark from the chicken coop outside; after biting Kirvi's leg, Logie had been put on probation, and Christopher had left him outside rather than bring him into the storehouse or onto the loft.

"He sounds upset," Kirvi mentioned, peering out one of the windows to see the goatdog pacing restlessly about the coop.

"He'll live. He knows not to bite."

Kirvi arched her brows, and a sudden deep blush coated his cheeks. "Perhaps he learned from example," she said, smirking. It was adorable the way his face turned so red when he was embarrassed. It was a rare occasion when an Auroran blushed so dark.

"Ah," he chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his hand over his face. "Maybe he did. Sorry. By the way. Got a little carried away there… with everything."

"Do not apologize. You did nothing wrong." She leaned against him with a sigh. "Tell me a story about your Albion."

Christopher cleared his throat and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close. "A story? Sure. This is one that my father and Reaver were overjoyed in telling us—although, their versions differed greatly, since Reaver always made a point of having the bad guy win and rule the world, and my father… didn't. Anyways. Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there existed three powerful entities, hailing from the place known only as the Void. These three entities were known collectively as the Court. One, the weakest of the three, was called the Knight of Blades. The second was the Jack of Blades, and the most powerful and terrible of the three was the Queen of Blades. Long ago, the Court left their dark home in the Void and came to Albion, demanding that the people bow down and worship them as gods, and pledge their undying obedience. The people denied this request. The Court was furious. Using power man can only dream of wielding, they scorched Albion until the black of the smoke blocked out the sun, and the earth was crumbling and dead.

"Again, the Court brought their demands upon the people. And again, they were refused. In their fury, the Court lifted the sea and brought it down upon the world, flooding her wounds with odious waters. Disaster struck Albion again and again, and for the final time, the Court asked obedience and promised peace upon the land and her people. However, when they were refused once again, they bent the minds of all who lived in Albion and rent them insane. And finally the people bowed to the will of the Court.

"Years passed and the Court ruled Albion without challenge. Until one day, one brave man called William Black, bearing the legendary Sword of Aeons, ascended to the highest peak of Albion's mountains. He demanded battle with the Court, shouting to the heavens that should he win, the people would be freed.

"The first to accept his challenge was the Knight of Blades. Weak as he was, the Knight was quickly slain by Black and his holy blade. Next came the Jack. Although the Jack was infinitely more powerful than the Knight, he too was brought down by the Sword of Aeons, however through manipulation of will and spirit, his soul was not destroyed as had been the Knight's; the Jack's spirit remained locked in his demonic mask, to remain there for years to come.

"The Queen, under a terrible rage that her Court had been destroyed by a mere mortal man, accepted Black's challenge. Their battle lasted for weeks upon weeks; their blades and fury carved valleys and formed mountains as the endless war waged on. But despite the awesome power of the Queen of Blades, she too was brought to her knees by William Black and the Sword of Aeons, and the Court no longer held sway over Albion.

"Peace settled over Albion. People thrived and the land rebuilt, and all seemed well. William Black and his legendary sword vanished into history, never to be heard from again.

"Until one fateful day, a bandit attack on a peaceful hamlet turned into something more. A young boy, son of a famous warrior, was the prey of a dark evil spreading seeds of malice across Albion. His village was slaughtered, his father murdered before his eyes, and his sister and mother disappeared. Orphaned and alone, the boy grew to become a powerful and recognized Hero throughout the land, known to history as the Hero of Oakvale. As he found his blinded sister and began a journey of cleansing the world of evil, the horrible truth came to light.

"Although the world believed the Court destroyed by William Black, this was not true. Throughout the ages, the Jack of Blades had retained immortality by trapping souls in his mask and devouring their life-force into his own. It was he who had hunted the Hero of Oakvale and begun the attack on Albion once more.

"He hungered for the blade that struck him down and destroyed the Court so effortlessly: the Jack sought the Sword of Aeons' power for his own.

"And through the blood of an ancient kingdom, he found it. The blood of the first Archon ran through the veins of the Hero and his family, and by slaughtering Scarlet Robe, the warrior mother of the Hero, the Jack held the Sword once more after hundreds of years of searching. Through the Jack of Blades and the Sword of Aeons, the Court once again ruled Albion."

Kirvi bit her lip and nudged Christopher. "Is that it? What happened to the Hero of Oakvale and his sister? Did the Jack win for good?"

He smiled and gave a little laugh. "Well, here's where it gets a little confusing. The way Reaver always told it, the Hero of Oakvale slew his sister and the Jack and took the Sword of Aeons for his own, and became Albion's next tyrant, so the Court truly won, since his soul was corrupted beyond repair. My father told it a little differently; he said that after destroying the Jack, the Hero destroyed the Sword of Aeons and let his sister live, and all was peaceful. Judging by the fact that nobody's frolicking around Albion with an ancient legendary sword, proclaiming themselves to be the newest incarnation of Jack of Blades, my father's version was the right one, if it's all true history and not just a bedtime story. So there you have it. A story about Albion."

"It is very interesting. Do you think it is real?" she asked hopefully.

"That would rather neat if it was. I mean, everyone knows that William Black was the first Archon, so why shouldn't it be? And the Hero of Oakvale _is _in textbooks… yes, I think it's real," he concluded softly. "As real as anything we see here; as real as you and me." At a loud, pleading bark, he added bitterly, "And that stupid dog."

Kirvi giggled and gazed out the window at the clear blue sky and golden mountain ranges in the far distance. "Is Albion beautiful?"

"Very. Not Bowerstone and Brightwall and other big cities, but when you go out into the country… there are these people who live in Mourningwood, and they live in tune with nature and the spirit of the forest. I really admire them. I hope you see it one day," he murmured wistfully.

"So do I." Kirvi leaned on her elbow and gave him a long stare. "Take me with you when you go back?"

Christopher's brows drew together and he sighed, brushing a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "I would love to. I'll bring it up with Ben and Walter once he wakes up."

Kirvi smiled and lightly touched the side of his face. "Good." His lips twitched up into a slight smile, and her heart skipped several beats as she remembered what he started only hours before. She had never been kissed before—let alone in such a manner as he did. It had been so easy, so natural, to go along with the flow of movement.

Feeling the same tug as before, she bent down and lightly pressed her mouth into his. Soft and supple, his lips opened to the kiss and as his hands came up behind her to pull her in closer, a bolt of lightning desire shot down her spine, making her hair all stand on end and her skin tingle. His hand moved down her back, lightly pressing the cool silk against her body, and a gentle nudge brought her forward, leaning into him as if a magnetic force pulled them together. As one hand held her body closer, the other entwined in her hair, and he made a soft noise deep in his throat that made heat spread throughout her limbs.

Perhaps it was a Hero thing, the way he made her body react by simply touching her. Perhaps he was working his will on her.

As he pulled her tighter into him and he dug his hips into hers and she could feel him against her, whole and wanting, and his tongue flicked out against her lips, lightly tasting, she decided that even if he was using will on her, she never wanted it to end.


End file.
